LIBRARY 

OF    THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 
Cltus 


THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  ELEMENTS 
OF  RELIGIOUS  FAITH 


THE 

PSYCHOLOGICAL  ELEMENTS 
OF  RELIGIOUS  FAITH 

LECTURES 

BY 

CHARLES  CARROLL   l^VERETT,  D.D.,  LL.D. 

LATE  BUSSEY   PROFESSOR  OF  THEOLOGY  IN  HARVARD 
UNIVERSITY 

EDITED  BY 
EDWARD   HALE 

ASSISTANT  PROFESSOR  OF  HOMILETICS   IN  THE  DIVINITY 
SCHOOL  OF  HARVARD   UNIVERSITY 


f£0rft 

THE    MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 
1902 

All  rights  reserved 


I   8 


COPYRIGHT,  1902, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped  July,  1902. 


Nortoooti 

J.  S.  Gushing  &  Co.  -  Berwick  &  Smith 
Norwood  Mass.  U.S.A. 


PREFACE 

MANY  of  Dr.  Everett's  friends  have  expressed 
the  wish  that  there  should  be  some  permanent 
record  of  his  lectures  on  theology  —  a  wish 
justified,  it  is  believed,  by  the  unique  character 
of  the  lectures  and  the  profound  impression 
they  made  on  those  who  heard  them.  The 
Faculty  of  the  Harvard  Divinity  School,  there- 
fore, with  the  approval  and  authorization  of  the 
only  surviving  member  of  Dr.  Everett's  imme- 
diate family,  appointed  a  committee  to  consider 
the  feasibility  of  bringing  out  the  lectures,  or  a 
part  of  them,  in  book  form.  As  Dr.  Everett 
left  no  manuscript  of  his  theological  lectures, 
—  seems,  indeed,  never  to  have  written  them 
out,  —  it  was  necessary  to  have  recourse  to 
notes  taken  by  students.  The  task  of  putting 
this  material  into  shape  was  committed  to  Pro- 
fessor Edward  Hale  of  the  Harvard  Divinity 
School,  who,  on  another  page,  explains  his 


vi  PREFACE 

method  of  procedure ;    the  present  volume   is 
the  result  of  his  editorial  work. 

Dr.  Everett  divided  his  theological  instruc- 
tion into  two  courses.  Of  these,  the  shorter 
course,  on  the  psychological  elements  of  reli- 
gious faith,  was  intended  by  him  to  serve 
chiefly  as  an  introduction  to  the  longer  course 
in  which  he  considered  the  special  content  of 
religious  faith.  It  has  been  judged  advisable 
to  issue  the  first  of  these  courses  in  a  separate 
volume.  It  gives  the  fundamental  principles 
of  Dr.  Everett's  inquiry,  and  forms  a  unity  in 
itself.  If  the  reception  given  to  this  volume 
should  be  encouraging,  the  lectures  of  the  sec- 
ond course,  it  is  hoped,  may  be  issued  in  the 
near  future.  This  second  course  deals  with 
the  great  questions  of  religious  belief:  the 
being  and  attributes  of  God,  human  freedom, 
sin  and  salvation,  immortality,  and  the  organi- 
zation of  religion  in  human  life. 


C.  H.  TOY. 

For  the  Committee. 


HARVARD  UNIVERSITY, 
June,  1902. 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE 

DR.  EVERETT  was  made  Bussey  Professor  of 
Theology  in  the  Harvard  Divinity  School  in 
1869,  and  in  the  following  year  delivered  for 
the  first  time  the  shorter  of  the  two  courses  of 
lectures  which  Dr.  Toy  has  described  in  the 
Preface.  At  first  these  lectures  were  entitled, 
"The  Science  of  Religion";  later  the  title, 
"  The  Psychological  Basis  of  Religious  Faith," 
was  substituted,  this  in  turn  giving  place  finally 
to  the  title  under  which  the  lectures  are  here 
reported,  "The  Psychological  Elements  of  Re- 
ligious Faith." 

During  the  thirty  years  from  the  time  when 
Dr.  Everett  first  delivered  these  lectures  until 
his  death  in  October,  1900,  there  was  compara- 
tively little  change  in  the  substance  of  the 
lectures  as  a  whole ;  but  in  the  arrangement 
and  order  of  the  thought,  and  in  the  greater  or 

lesser  emphasis  given  to  one  or  another  aspect 
vii 


viii  EDITOR'S  PREFACE 

of  it  at  different  times,  as  well  as  in  the  illus- 
trations used,  there  was  continual  change.  This 
variety  of  treatment  gave  to  the  lectures  as 
Dr.  Everett  delivered  them  a  peculiar  freshness 
and  spontaneity,  but  it  has  made  more  difficult 
the  task  of  reproducing  them.  There  was  no 
manuscript  of  his  own  to  which  reference  could 
be  made,  and  no  one  set  of  notes,  however  full 
and  intelligent,  could  be  relied  upon  without 
comparison  with  others. 

It  will  therefore  be  readily  understood  that 
the  lectures  as  here  given  can  only  suggest  the 
substance  of  Dr.  Everett's  argument,  with  some- 
thing of  his  method  of  presentation  ;  they  are 
necessarily  a  condensed  report  rather  than  a 
reproduction,  with  the  defects  of  style  incident 
to  such  a  report,  brief  and  sketchy  in  compari- 
son with  the  lectures  as  Dr.  Everett  delivered 
them,  and  without  the  finished  form  which  he 
would  have  given  them  if  he  had  himself  pre- 
pared them  for  the  printer.  A  word  of  expla- 
nation may  not  be  out  of  place  in  regard  to 
certain  colloquial  phrases  which  occur ;  they 
are  characteristic  of  Dr.  Everett's  less  formal 
speech,  and  belong  to  a  certain  playfulness  of 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE  ix 

thought  which  was  habitual  with  him  even  in 
his  more  serious  moods. 

The  twelve  chapters  into  which  the  book  is 
divided  represent  about  thirty  lectures,  the 
number  in  the  course  varying  a  little  from 
year  to  year. 

I  am  indebted  to  the  Rev.  F.  M.  Bennett,  the 
Rev.  V.  J.  Emery,  Professor  H.  H.  Home,  the 
Rev.  W.  I.  Lawrance,  Mr.  George  B.  Rogers, 
Professor  J.  H.  Ropes,  Mr.  C.  G.  Ruess,  Dr. 
Duren  J.  H.  Ward,  and  the  Rev.  A.  H.  Winn 
for  the  use  of  their  notes,  and  to  Professor 
Home  and  Mr.  Ruess  for  their  assistance  in 
verifying  references. 

EDWARD  HALE. 

CAMBRIDGE,  MASSACHUSETTS, 
June,  1902. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I 


PAGK 


Introduction :  The  Methods  of  Theological  Study  .        1 


CHAPTER  II 

Partial  Definitions  of  Religion.     The  Elements  of 
Religion ;  the  Primacy  of  Feeling 


CHAPTER  III 

Superficial  and  Profound  Feeling.  The  Test  of 
the  Worth  of  Feeling.  The  Relation  between 
Feeling  and  Action 24 


CHAPTER  IV 

The  Priority  of  the  Religious  Feeling  as  compared 
•with  the  Intellectual  Concept.  The  First  Defi- 
nition of  Religion 40  ' 


CHAPTER  V 

Spencer's  Reconciliation  of  Science  and  Religion. 

Schleiermacher's  Definition  of  Religion  .      52 

xi 


xii  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  VI 

PAGE 

The  Psychological  Basis  of  Schleiermacher's  Defini- 
tion. Criticism  of  the  Definition.  Examina- 
tion of  the  Attempts  which  have  been  made  to 
supply  what  is  lacking  in  the  Definition  .  .  69 

CHAPTER  VII 

The  Second  Definition  of  Religion  :  the  Feeling 
toward  the  Supernatural.  Definition  of  the 
Supernatural.  Superstition:  the  Supernatural 
considered  as  Negative 86 

CHAPTER  VIII 

The  Supernatural  considered  as  Positive.  The  Re- 
ligious Feelings.  The  Progress  from  the  Reli- 
gion of  Self-related  Feeling  to  the  Religion  in 
which  the  Feeling  centres  in  God  .  .  .  108 

CHAPTER  IX 

The  Content  of  the  Supernatural :  the  Three  Ideas 
of  the  Reason.  Truth,  Goodness,  and  Beauty 
as  implied  in  the  Religious  Feelings.  Instinct 
and  Reason 130 

CHAPTER  X 

The  Ideas  of  the  Reason  as  Supernatural.  The  Be- 
lief in  Unity  Instinctive ;  Consideration  of  the 
Theories  of  Hume  and  Mill.  The  Supernatural 
Character  of  the  Moral  Law  .  150 


CONTENTS  xiii 

CHAPTER  XI 

PAGE 

The  Theories  of  a  Natural  Basis  for  the  Moral  Law : 
Utilitarianism ;  the  Theory  of  Darwin.  The 
Basis  of  the  Moral  Law  found  in  the  Principle 
of  Unity  as  manifested  in  the  Social  Order.  The 
Relation  between  Morality  and  Religion  .  .  173 

CHAPTER  XII 

The  Supernatural  Character  of  Beauty.  TJlfc-Reia- 
tion  between  Beauty  and  Religion.  The  Third 
Definition  of  Religion 196 


THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  ELEMENTS 
OF  RELIGIOUS  FAITH 

CHAPTER  I 

INTRODUCTION  :     THE   METHODS   OF  THEO- 
LOGICAL STUDY 

IN  the  study  of  religion  it  is  necessary  to  have 
at  the  outset  a  definite  and  correct  understand- 
ing as  to  our  starting-point,  and  the  method 
which  we  are  to  follow.  In  general,  we  find 
four  different  methods  of  theological  study  ; 
they  are  sometimes  followed  singly,  but  more 
often  they  are  blended. 

In  the  dogmatic  method,  followed  by  most 
of  the  older  theologians,  certain  facts  are  as- 
sumed. Beginning  with  the  thought  of  God, 
the  student  goes  on  to  consider  the  divine  attri- 
butes. Belief  is  made  to  rest  upon  authority. 
This  authority  may  be  external ;  thus  in 
Christianity  we  often  find  the  Bible  or  the 
Church  made  authoritative.  Or  we  may  have 

B  1 


2  DOGMATIC  AND  CRITICAL  METHODS 

an  internal  authority,  the  authority  of  the 
reason.  When  the  conception  of  God  has  been 
made  clear,  the  consideration  of  man's  relations 
toward  God  follows. 

The  second  of  the  four  methods  is  known  as 
the  critical  method.  It  begins  with  a  criticism 
of  dogmatic  theology,  showing  where  it  fails  or 
overpasses  its  limits.  In  its  extreme  form  it 
ceases  to  be  a  method  of  theological  study  and 
becomes  simply  negative  criticism.  We  see  an 
instance  of  this  in  the  attitude  which  some  have 
taken  in  the  consideration  of  so-called  anthro- 
pomorphism, the  representation  of  the  divinity 
under  the  form  of  man.  This  anthropomorphic 
conception  of  the  divinity  came  as  an  early 
form  of  religion  which,  in  comparison  with  still 
earlier  forms,  marked  a  real  advance  in  reli- 
gious thought.  Now,  in  considering  this  con- 
ception, one  could  follow  the  critical  method  up 
to  a  certain  point  and  still  have  positive  results. 
If  we  only  went  so  far  as  to  show  that  the 
divinity  cannot  have  physical  organs  like  man, 
and  that  any  resemblance  between  the  divinity 
and  man  must  consequently  be  only  spiritual, 
the  result  of  our  criticism  would  still  be  positive ; 


THEIR  DEFECTS  3 

for  we  should  still  have  an  anthropomorphic 
conception,  in  which  the  divinity  would  be 
represented  with  the  spiritual,  instead  of  the 
physical,  attributes  of  man.  When,  however, 
men  go  farther,  and  say  that  human  nature 
cannot  in  any  aspect  adequately  represent  the 
divine  nature,  they  reason  away  all  spiritual 
attributes  and  thus  all  positive  religion. 

The  Dogmatic  method  tends  to  become  narrow 
and  assumptive.  The  critical  method  may  de- 
stroy the  limits  of  theology  and  leave  nothing. 
Thus  Strauss  in  "Die  Christliche  Dogmatik" 
pushes  the  critical  method  so  far  that  he  leaves 
little  positive  religion.  On  the  principle  that 
everything  that  is  not  absolute,  if  allowed  to  go 
far,  will  pass  over  into  its  opposite,  he  takes  an 
assertion  in  apparent  good  faith  and  then  carries 
it  by  its  own  development  into  contradictions. 
"  Give  the  devil  rope  enough,"  we  say,  "  and  he 
will  hang  himself."  It  is  thus  that  the  critic 
simply  gives  rope  enough  to  certain  beliefs.  To 
some  extent  the  critical  method  enters  into  all 
theological  study  in  which  modern  thought  has 
part.  It  must  not  be  thought  wholly  negative 
in  its  tendency.  Working  together  with  the 


4  PSYCHOLOGICAL  METHOD 

dogmatic  method,  it  has  produced  good  re- 
sults. 

The  third  of  the  four  methods,  the  psycho- 
logical, is  distinctly  positive ;  but  it  differs 
fundamentally  from  the  dogmatic  method  in 
that  it  begins  with  religion,  and  from  it  reaches, 
so  far  as  it  can,  the  thought  of  God,  whereas 
the  dogmatic  method  begins  with  the  thought 
of  God  and  passes  on  from  that  to  reach  re- 
ligion. The  psychological  method,  beginning 
thus  with  the  thought  of  religion  as  it  has 
been  actually  recognized  in  the  various  forms 
which  it  has  taken,  cannot  pass  outside  of  re- 
ligion itself;  therefore  it  can  never  reach  be- 
lief in  any  attribute  of  the  divine  nature  which 
is  not  involved  in  religion.  That  is,  religion 
itself,  as  actually  manifested  and  recognized, 
furnishes  the  whole  sphere  within  which  the- 
ology must  move. 

Of  course  this  method  also,  like  the  critical 
method,  in  itself  and  carried  to  an  extreme, 
would  leave  no  positive  religion.  Thus  Feuer- 
bach1  reduced  religion  to  psychological  ele- 

1  Ludwig  Andreas  Feuerbach,  1804-1872,  "  Das  Wesen 
des  Christenthums,"  «  Pas  Wesen  der  Religion,"  etc.  See 


SPECULATIVE  METHOD  5 

ments  and  reached  no  religious  faith  whatever. 
No  authority  was  recognized,  and  religion  be- 
came simply  man's  projection  of  himself. 

When  we  look  for  the  supreme  example  of 
the  psychological  method,  we  turn  to  Schleier- 
macher.1  He  recognizes  nothing  which  is  not 
bound  up  in  the  nature  of  religion.  There  is 
a  positive  result,  the  recognition  of  an  absolute 
reality  with  which  religion  brings  us  into 
relation.  Schleiermacher,  however,  recognizes 
no  divine  attributes  as  such,  but  only  a  method 
of  relation. 

The  last  of  the  four  methods  is  the  specu- 
lative. It  occupies  a  place  between  the  dog- 
matic and  the  psychological  methods.  It 
accepts  to  a  large  extent  the  results  of  the 
psychological  method,  and  then  makes  within 
these  results  a  world  for  itself.  It  fills  out 
psychological  results  into  a  system.  Whereas 
the  psychological  method  is  satisfied  with  the 
simpler  relations,  the  speculative  strives  to 
bring  out  the  inner  relation  of  things,  and 
aims  to  show  the  perfection  of  the  whole. 

also  Friedrich  Albert  Lange's  "History  of  Materialism," 
Bk.  II,  Chap.  II.  i  See  Chapters  V  and  VI. 


6  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELIGION 

Here  Hegel  is  the  typical  example.  It  is 
sometimes  said  that  the  speculative  method 
admits  no  assumptions.  This  statement,  how- 
ever, is  extreme  ;  we  can  reach  nothing  with- 
out assumptions.  Hegel,  certainly,  begins  with 
an  absolutely  dogmatic  assumption,  the  objec- 
tive fact  of  being.  From  this  as  his  starting- 
point  he  develops  his  system. 

There  is  a  great  difference  between  the 
theology  which  results  from  this  method  and 
the  old  dogmatic  theology.  Here  results  are 
reached  by  a  process  of  speculative  construc- 
tion which  grows  like  a  plant.  The  plant 
takes  its  beginning  from  a  seed,  and  then,  as 
it  grows,  draws  from  earth  and  air  and  water, 
translating  each  into  itself  and  at  every  stage 
of  its  growth  assimilating  new  material. 

Our  own  method  in  the  examination  which 
we  are  about  to  make  will  be  largely  psycho- 
logical. Although  as  we  go  on  we  may  be 
led  into  a  more  external  and  objective  treat- 
ment, we  shall  begin  by  studying  the  elements 
of  religion.  Our  subject  is  given  as  the  psy- 
chological elements  of  religious  faith.  We  are 
to  consider  a  philosophy  of  religion. 


NOT  SCIENCE   OF  RELIGION  7 

Why  do  we  not  rather  say  a  science  of  reli- 
gion? Certainly,  in  so  far  as  accuracy  and 
order  are  fundamental  to  the  scientific  method, 
our  method  is  to  be  scientific.  In  all,  how- 
ever, that  is  recognized  as  scientific,  the 
experiments  at  the  outset  are  as  scientific  as 
the  accepted  results.  Before  they  have  been 
adopted  into  the  body  of  science,  they  have 
order  and  system.  From  this  point  of  views 
neither  theology  nor  philosophy  is  scientific. 
In  science,  furthermore,  there  is  universal 
agreement  as  to  the  object  which  is  to  be 
studied.  It  is  not  so  in  theology.  We 
are  to  follow  the  scientific  method,  but  we 
have  not  yet  reached  a  point  where  we  can 
demand  general  agreement  among  students  of 
theology  and  philosophy.  There  is  one  other 
distinction,  also,  between  our  study  and  what 
is  recognized  as  science.  To  science  all  things 
are  of  equal  value  ;  it  seeks  the  truth,  indif- 
ferent as  to  its  value.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  study  of  religion  involves  judgments  of 
value;  its  estimate  of  the  worth  of  things 
guides  its  movements  and  furnishes  a  basis 
for  its  results.  Philosophy  is  fundamentally 


8  THEOLOGY  A  JUDGMENT  OF   WORTH 

not  love  of  knowledge,  but  love  of  wisdom,  and 
wisdom  involves  a  judgment  of  worth ;  it  is 
the  true  life  which  the  philosopher  endeavors 
to  reach  and  to  impart.  All  theological  thought 
since  Kant  has  tended  to  recognize  this.  At 
present,  therefore,  we  speak  more  properly  of 
a  philosophy  of  religion  than  of  a  science  of 
religion. 


CHAPTER  II 

PARTIAL  DEFINITIONS  OP  RELIGION  —  THE 
ELEMENTS  OF  RELIGION  —  THE  PRIMACY  OF 
FEELING 

WHAT  is  religion?  We  must  define  it. 
Yet  a  complete  definition  is  not  possible  at 
the  outset.  Logically  our  study  gives  us  the 
definition  at  the  end,  practically  we  need  it 
at  the  beginning.  We  must  start  with  some 
rough  and  ready  definition,  and  then  the  con- 
ception may  grow  more  distinct  as  we  go  on. 

Religion  has  been  defined  as  identical  with 
morality;  but  neither  this  definition  nor  the 
modification  of  it,  "morality  touched  by  emo- 
tion," satisfies  us.  If  we  see  a  man  indignant 
at  some  wrong,  shall  we  say  that  he  is  reli- 
gious? Is  a  man  eager  for  right  and  justice 
a  religious  man?  It  has  been  defined,  also, 
as  man's  effort  to  perfect  himself;  but  a  man 
may  try  to  perfect  himself  without  religion, 
and  some  religions  do  not  pretend  to  perfection. 
9 


10  DEFINITIONS  OF  RELIGION    . 

Religion   implies   a   relation    between  us   and 
'  some  being   beyond   ourselves ;    it   is   in   part 
objective,   and   this   definition   is   purely   sub- 
jective. 

Max  Miiller  says1  that  religion  is  a  mental 
•faculty  which,  independent  of  sense  and  reason, 
enables  man  to  apprehend  the  infinite  under 
different  names  and  various  disguises.  There 
are  here  two  statements,  one  that  religion  is  a 
mental  faculty,  the  other  that  it  is  the  appre- 
hension of  the  infinite.  But  what  is  called  a 
faculty  is  rather  potential  energy,  and  religion 
is  rather  a  result  of  such  a  faculty  than  the 
faculty  itself.  Further,  our  definition  must 
at  the  outset  include  all  forms  of  religion,  and 
the  early  religions  cannot  be  said  all  to  have 
had  the  sense  of  the  infinite.  Miiller's  defini- 
tion, however,  comes  nearer  the  ordinary  con- 
ception of  religion  than  the  preceding  definition, 
in  that  it  recognizes  in  religion  the  relation  to 
something  objective.  Count  Goblet  d'  Alviella 
gives  2  as  a  definition  of  religion  the  conception 

luThe  Origin  and  Growth  of  Religions "  ("  Hibbert 
Lectures,"  1878),  pp.  21,  42. 

2  "Hibbert  Lectures,"  1891,  pp.  47,  48. 


DEFINITIONS  OF  RELIGION  11 

which,  man  forms  of  his  relation  with  super- 
human and  mysterious  powers  on  which  he 
depends;  and  in  connection  with  this  we  may 
take  the  statement  proposed  by  Tylor1  as 
the  minimum  definition,  that  religion  is  belief  "  •, 
in  spiritual  beings.  According  to  Reville,2  *> 
religion  is  the  determination  of  human  life  by 
the  sentiment  of  a  bond  uniting  the  human 
mind  to  that  mysterious  mind  whose  domina- 
tion of  the  world  and  of  itself  it  recognizes, 
and  in  the  sense  of  union  with  which  it  de- 
lights. Here  we  have  an  advance,  though  the 
form  of  statement  is  clumsy.  The  bond  itself, 
according  to  this  definition,  or  its  sentiment, 
is  not  religion.  There  must  be  a  determina- 
tion of  life,  and  thus  some  form  of  activity 
appears  to  be  an  essential  element  of  religion. 
There  is  the  assumption,  also,  that  delight  is 
an  essential  element. 

We  see  already  how  definitions  divide  and 
scatter.  Moreover,  no  one  of  these  definitions 
is  scientific.  There  are  two  kinds  of  defini- 


«'  Primitive  Culture,"  3d  ed. 


1891,  Vol.  I,  p.  424. 

2  Albert  Reville,  "  History  of  Religions,"  p.  26. 


12       INCLUSIVE  AND   TYPICAL  DEFINITIONS 

tion,  the  inclusive  or  extensive,  and  the  typical, 
and  to  make  our  definition  complete  we  need 
both.  The  inclusive  definition  includes  all 
specimens  which  can  be  covered  by  the  term 
to  be  defined ;  the  typical  emphasizes  the 
special  or  more  marked  characteristics  of  that 
which  it  describes.  The  definition  of  man  as 
a  biped  without  feathers  is  inclusive  but  not 
typical ;  so  is  Spencer's  definition  of  life  as 
the  correlation  of  internal  changes  with  ex- 
ternal changes.1  In  any  definition,  if  we  can 
find  what  is  true  of  the  highest  and  the  lowest 
forms,  we  may  infer  that  it  is  true  of  the 
intermediate  forms  also.  But  such  a  definition 
will  include  nothing  which  is  not  found  in 
the  lowest  forms,  and  a  definition  of  religion, 
therefore,  which  is  to  include  all  religions, 
must  include  nothing  that  is  not  found  in  the 
lowest  forms  of  religion.  The  typical  defini- 
tion, on  the  other  hand,  emphasizing  the 
highest  forms  rather  than  the  lowest,  may  not 
include  the  lowest.  We  are  to  begin  with 
inclusive  definitions,  and  as  we  advance  bring 
into  our  conception  higher  and  higher  elements, 
i"  First  Principles,"  Pt.  I. 


ELEMENTS  OF  RELIGION  13 

proceeding  in  this  way  from  the  inclusive  to 
the  concrete,  from  the  abstract  to  the  typical. 

Where  in  life  does  religion  find  its  seat  ? 
Religion  is  of  the  spirit,  spiritual  not  in  the 
technical  sense,  but  as  being  of  the  inner 
nature  of  man.  Thus  our  field  is  limited, 
for  the  elements  of  the  spiritual  nature  are  few. 
Intellect,  feeling  or  emotion,  will  —  these  are 
the  elements  of  the  inner  life.  Does  religion 
belong  primarily  to  the  intellect,  or  to  feeling, 
or  to  will  ?  Or  if  not  primarily  to  some  one 
of  these,  does  it  belong  to  two  of  them  only, 
or  to  all  three  ? 

We  find  at  once  that  we  cannot  consider 
the  intellect  by  itself;  intellect  and  feeling 
cannot  be  separated.  Consciousness  itself 
implies  a  form  of  intellect,  and  on  the  other 
hand  there  is  no  thought  which  is  unaccom- 
panied by  feeling;  thought  is  inspired  by 
feeling;  we  think  because  we  are  interested. 
Therefore  we  cannot  employ  the  logical  method 
of  difference,  and  ask  if  religion  is  ever  found 
where  feeling  is  separate  from  thought,  or 
where  thought  is  free  from  feeling.  There 
is  a  second  method,  however,  which  we  can 


14  PRIMACY  OF  FEELING 

employ,  that  of  concomitant  variation.  By 
this  we  may  determine  the  relative  importance 
of  elements  which  cannot  be  separated,  and 
find  how  far  one  element  is  dependent  upon 
another.  Does  religion,  then,  vary  with  varia- 
tions in  thought  or  with  variations  in  feel- 
ing, or  as  both  thought  and  feeling  vary? 
The  answer  is  clear.  Religion  varies,  not 
with  the  variations  in  thought,  but  with  the 
variations  in  feeling.  "  If  I  know  all  mysteries 
and  all  knowledge  .  .  .  but  have  not  love,  I 
am  nothing."1  Some  of  the  clearest  thinkers 
in  theology  are  not  religious,  even  though 
they  may  have  belief.  On  the  other  hand, 
some  ignorant  persons  are  truly  religious. 

The  first  person  to  put  theology  upon  a 
purely  psychological  basis,  Schleiermacher, 
reached  the  result  that  feeling  is  everything  in 
religion.  Over  against  him,  Hegel  does  not 
deny  the  reality  of  feeling,  but  he  gives  it  a 
subordinate  place  as  compared  with  intellect.2 

1 1  Cor.  xiii.  2. 

2  "Lectures  on  the  Philosophy  of  Keligion,"  transl.  from 
the  2d  German  edition  by  E.  B.  Speirs  and  J.  B.  Sanderson, 
Vol.  I,  Pt.  I,  B,  II. 


HEGEL'S  CRITICISM  OF  FEELING  15 

With  Hegel  the  starting-point  is  transitory  and 
of  less  importance.  In  this  his  method  differs 
from  that  now  in  vogue  with  some  who  assume 
that  the  starting-point  explains  all.  Hegel 
more  wisely  lays  stress  on  the  final  term. 

In  his  criticism  of  feeling  Hegel  urges,  first, 
that  feeling  is  indifferent  to  its  content ;  sec- 
ond, that  feeling  is  private  and  individual, 
whereas  thought  is  universal  ;  and  third,  that 
feeling  is  common  to  man  with  the  brutes,  the 
assumption  being  that  feeling  therefore  fills  a 
lower  place  than  the  intellect.  It  is  perhaps 
true  that  feeling  is  indifferent  to  its  content. 
Yet  feeling  is  determined  by  its  idea  of  its 
object.  We  may  say,  for  instance,  that  love  is 
indifferent  to  its  object ;  that  is,  a  bad  man 
may  receive  the  devoted  love  of  a  wife  ;  love 
gives  itself  where  it  can  and  will.  Love,  how- 
ever, idealizes  its  object ;  to  us,  on  the  outside, 
love  seems  to  be  in  pursuit  of  a  worthless  ob- 
ject, but  to  the  person  who  loves  this  object  is 
its  ideal.  Further,  the  feeling  varies  with  the 
nature  of  the  object ;  admiration  may  be  felt 
toward  a  Washington  and  toward  a  prize- 
fighter ;  we  give  the  feeling  the  same  name  in 


16  HEGEL'S  CRITICISM  OF  FEELING 

both  cases.  But  the  feeling  itself  is  not  the 
same ;  these  are  two  different  kinds  of  admira- 
tion. What  is  true  of  admiration  is  true  of  all 
emotions,  even  of  love  ;  the  love  of  a  great 
person  is  different  from  the  love  of  a  base  per- 
son, the  love  of  a  parent  different  from  that  of 
a  child.  Of  course,  there  is  in  all  love  a  com- 
mon, universal  element;  but  there  are  these 
differences  also.  We  conclude,  therefore,  that 
feeling  is  not  altogether  or  indeed  mainly 
indifferent  to  its  object. 

The  second  criticism  of  Hegel,  that  feeling  is 
private  and  individual,  has  much  in  its  favor. 
De  gustibus  non  disputandum ;  each  man's  taste 
is  his  own.  A  man's  thought  may  be  con- 
vinced ;  his  taste  cannot  be.  One  man  likes  a 
picture,  another  dislikes  it ;  this  dislike  or  lik- 
ing cannot  be  altered  by  persuasion.  Yet  feel- 
ing is  no  less  universal  than  thought.  We  are 
apt  to  speak  of  thought  as  if  a  thought  existed 
apart  from  our  minds,  and  could  be  taken  from 
one  mind  and  put  into  another.  But  thoughts 
are  not  the  same,  they  are  only  similar ;  your 
thoughts  are  yours,  mine  are  mine,  they  can- 
not be  interchanged ;  thought  is  private  as 


Avl 


OF  THE 

(   UN!VER$/TY 

OF 


HEGEL'S  CRITICISM  OF  FEELING  17 

well  as  feeling.  Still  it  is  true  that  argument 
can  produce  similarity  of  thought,  whereas  we 
cannot  thus  produce  similarity  of  feeling. 
But  why  do  we  wish  to  produce  similarity  of 
thought?  Why  does  a  man  whose  mind  is 
filled  with  some  great  idea  seek  to  bring  it  into 
the  minds  of  others?  He  wishes  others  to 
share  his  thought  only  that  they  may  share  his 
feeling,  the  feeling  perhaps  in  turn  leading  to 
some  action.  I  seek  to  convince  you  that  your 
candidate  for  some  office  is  an  unscrupulous 
politician.  Why?  In  order  that  you  may 
vote  for  mine.  The  preacher  tries  to  convince 
us  of  the  truth  of  religion.  Why  ?  In  order 
to  bring  us  to  his  way  of  feeling  and  action. 
Community  of  feeling  is  generally  the  end  to 
which  community  of  thought  is  but  a  means. 
Not  that  this  is  always  true ;  but  it  is  true  in 
most  practical  situations.  Further,  feeling 
may  propagate  itself  without  the  medium  of 
thought,  as  for  example  at  a  camp-meeting  or 
in  a  riot,  when  enthusiasm  or  passion  is  con- 
tagious ;  or  as  in  some  expedition  when  one  of 
the  party  who  thinks  the  expedition  will  fail 
may  not  utter  his  thought,  and  yet  others  will 


18  HEGEL'S  CRITICISM  OF  FEELING 

catch  his  feeling.  We  recognize,  also,  that  this 
contagion  of  feeling  may  be  a  sign  of  health  as 
well  as  of  disease,  as  when  we  speak  of  the 
contagion  of  moral  enthusiasm. 

Hegel's  third  criticism  of  feeling  is  that  it 
is  common  to  the  brute  with  man,  and  there- 
fore belongs  to  the  lower  strata  of  man's 
nature,  and  so  is  not  to  be  emphasized  as  an 
element  in  religion.  Is  not  thought,  however, 
also  common  to  the  brute  with  man?  The 
brute  has  the  beginnings  of  intellect  as  really 
as  the  beginnings  of  feeling,  and  if  we  allow 
that  feeling  is  predominant  in  the  brute,  we 
may  say  that  what  is  most  common  and  uni- 
versal in  life  is  most  fundamental.  Perhaps, 
however,  the  brute  shares  thought  with  us  as 
fully  as  feeling;  our  feelings  may  be  of  a 
higher  grade  than  those  of  the  brute  because 
our  thought  is  higher. 

We  conclude,  therefore,  that  in  religion  feel- 
ing has  the  primacy  as  compared  with  intellect. 
How  is  it  as  regards  feeling  and  the  will? 
Here  we  can  apply  the  method  of  difference ; 
for  we  have  instances  in  which  all  activity  is 
excluded.  A  person  may  be  in  prison  or  ill, 


UK 
ot\ 


PRIMACY  OF  FEELING  19 

and  can  only  endure,  and  yet  in  such  cases  the 
most  beautiful  religious  life  may  appear.  It 
is  true  that  here  the  will  often  has  a  place  ; 
the  spirit  may  be  rebellious  at  the  confinement, 
there  may  be  envy  of  the  well  or  the  free,  and 
the  will  is  exerted  in  an  earnest  endeavor  to 
subdue  wrong  feelings  ;  here  is  a  true  activity 
of  the  will.  Yet,  after  all,  it  is  a  confirmation 
of  the  primacy  of  feeling.  For  what  the  will 
is  trying  to  bring  about  is  a  new  condition 
feeling ;  the  emphasis  is  on  feeling ;  feeling  is 
the  essential. 

Under  normal  conditions,  however,  we  find 
intellect,  feeling,  and  will  all  necessary.  Why, 
then,  should  we  consider  one  more  truly  essen- 
tial than  the  others  ?  There  are,  however,  two 
uses  of  the  word  "  essential "  :  first,  to  express 
that  which  carries  within  itself  the  essence  of 
the  whole,  whatever  it  may  be  ;  and  second, 
to  express  that  without  which  a  given  result 
is  not  reached,  though  such  a  factor  in  the 
result  may  be  less  fundamental  than  others  — 
a  sine  qua  non.  In  a  vineyard,  for  example, 
the  vine,  the  trellis,  the  soil,  the  water  for 
irrigation,  each  may  be,  in  a  certain  sense, 


20  PRIMACY  OF  FEELING 

essential  as  a  sine  qua  non,  because  without  it 
the  result  would  be  failure.  But  the  relation 
to  the  result  is  not  the  same  with  all ;  the  vine 
itself  is  the  essential  and  the  others  are  ac- 
cessories. So  feeling  is  the  essential  element 
in  religion. 

It  is  the  more  important  to  recognize  the 
primacy  of  feeling  in  religion  if  only  because 
it  has  the  same  primacy  in  life  generally.  In- 
tellect represents  the  environment,  feeling  rep- 
resents the  man.  Intellect  brings  to  man  his 
material ;  feeling  is  his  response  to  this  mate- 
rial. Intellect  is  analytic  ;  feeling  recognizes 
the  unity  of  the  object  and  is  constructive. 
Intellect  tries  to  explain  and  justify,  yet  never 
reaches  that  in  which  feeling  rejoices.  A 
picture  may  be  all  that  the  intellect  can  de- 
mand, and  yet  not  excite  feeling ;  the  last 
touch  of  genius  cannot  be  described,  though  it 
may  be  felt.  Thus,  again,  intellect  cannot  ex- 
plain why  you  love  your  friend.  What  you 
love  is  not  the  aggregate  of  his  good  qualities, 
which  may  belong  equally  to  others  whom  you 
do  not  love.  Feeling  regards  the  friend  as  a 
unit,  filling  gaps  which  the  intellect  cannot  fill. 


INTELLECT  NEEDED  BY  FEELING  21 

It  is  true,  however,  that  intellect  is  needed 
by  feeling.  Intellect  not  only  provides  the 
environment  to  which  feeling  responds ;  it 
helps,  also,  to  preserve  the  balance  among  the 
feelings.  In  so  far  as  we  can  think  our  envi- 
ronment as  a  whole,  we  are  less  exposed  to  fluc- 
tuations of  feeling,  and  the  intellect  helps  us 
thus  to  lump  our  experiences.  The  intellect 
cannot  do  this  alone  ;  a  fact  is  not  the  same 
as  our  thought  of  a  fact ;  when  death  comes, 
it  is  not  the  same  as  our  previous  thought  of 
it ;  an  immediate  fact  affects  us  differently 
from  the  presentation  of  a  distant  fact,  however 
assured  of  its  reality  we  may  be. 

Further,  the  intellect  tends  to  develop  feel-  W 
ing.  As  the  intellect  works,  it  enlarges  the 
environment,  and  thus  stimulates  the  growth 
of  feeling.  You  enjoy  a  simple  air,  simply 
played,  but  you  have  a  different  and  greater 
pleasure  in  listening  to  a  quartette  or  an  or- 
chestra ;  there  is  more  fulness  and  richness 
in  the  feeling  and  more  intensity.  Now  this 
result  could  not  be  reached  unless  the  skill  of 
the  composer  were  developed.  You  may  say 
that,  after  all,  what  is  essential  here  is  not  the 


22  PRIMACY  OF  FEELING 

skill  of  the  composer,  but  the  musical  sense  to 
which  appeal  is  made.  Yet  the  skilled  per- 
formance is  necessary ;  it  is  knowledge  which 
gives  opportunity  for  certain  feelings.  Feeling 
is  not  like  a  bell  which  responds  to  a  stroke. 
A  man  with  his  feelings  is  like  an  organ  which 
does  not  give  the  same  response  to  every  touch, 
but  is  capable  of  infinite  variation  according  to 
the  skill  of  the  player.  The  intellect  is  the 
player  who  draws  out  the  possibilities  of  the 
instrument. 

All  that  the  intellect  can  do,  however,  is  not 
too  much  to  meet  the  highest  feelings.  Feel- 
ing has  the  primacy.  Intellect  is  for  the  sake 
of  feeling.  What  we  do  is  done  to  gratify 
feeling.  In  science  and  philosophy,  feeling  is 
the  beginning,  the  middle,  and  the  end.  The 
desire  to  know  or  to  explore,  the  charm  of 
mental  activity,  the  hope  of  discovery,  eager- 
ness for  renown  —  these  in  both  science  and 
philosophy  stimulate  the  student.  Feeling  in 
one  form  or  another  first  prompts  to  study, 
and  then  through  the  student's  sense  of  obliga- 
tion it  sustains  him  in  his  work.  Activity 
is  pleasant,  also,  and  mental  activity  most 


PRIMACY  OF  FEELING  23 

pleasant.  Finally,  at  the  end  of  any  study 
there  is  the  aesthetic  joy  in  success  and  an 
enlarged  horizon. 


CHAPTER   III 

SUPERFICIAL  AND  PROFOUND  FEELING  —  THE 
TEST  OF  THE  WORTH  OF  FEELING  —  THE 
RELATION  BETWEEN  FEELING  AND  ACTION 

IF  feeling,  then,  is  primary,  does  it  follow 
that  the  office  of  religion  is  to  make  one  "  feel 
good "  ?  No,  but  to  make  one  a  person  of 
good  feeling.  "  Feeling  good  "  is  momentary  ; 
the  quality  of  good  feeling  is  permanent,  the 
"right  heart"  of  Hegel.  We  must  distinguish 
between  feeling  and  emotion.  It  is  not  always 
the  most  emotional  men  who  have  the  deepest 
feeling ;  the  man  whose  religious  feeling  is 
most  easily  stirred  is  not  necessarily  the  most 
religious.  Emotion  is  only  one  form  of  feel- 
ing, something  stirred,  changing,  transient. 
Two  judges  may  have  each  a  painful  case  to 
decide.  The  appeals  to  the  sympathy  of  each 
may  be  similar.  One  is  greatly  moved,  and 
yields  to  the  appeals;  the  other  is  firm.  We 
say  of  the  man  who  yields  that  he  is  a  man  of 
24 


FEELING  AND  EMOTION  25 

feeling;  the  other  we  may  call  cold-hearted. 
Yet  the  immovable  judge  may  be  a  man  of 
stronger  and  more  profound  feeling  than  the 
judge  who  yielded.  His  feeling  is  simply 
different  in  kind,  the  sense  of  responsibility 
and  of  the  importance  of  maintaining  the 
supremacy  of  the  law,  the  thought  of  the 
results  which  may  follow  pardon  and  freedom, 
the  sorrow  likely  to  be  caused  by  others  more 
liable  to  crime  as  they  see  this  man  go  free. 

The  emotion  of  the  moment  may  be  real 
enough,  there  may  not  be  in  it  any  pretence 
or  dissimulation ;  but  one  feeling  is  driven  out 
by  others.  We  speak  in  this  way  of  super- 
ficial feelings,  such  as  are  called  forth  by  one 
aspect  of  the  environment  and  not  by  others. 
As  the  environment  changes,  a  man  is  the 
creature  now  of  one  feeling,  now  of  another. 
/Deeper  feeling  may  vary  outwardly  with  the 
^changes  in  the  environment,  but  underneath 
is  changeless.  The  feeling  of  the  mother  who 
loves  her  child  is  fundamental  and  permanent, 
though  it  manifests  itself  in  a  variety  of  con- 
stantly changing  and  more  or  less  superficial 
moods.  A  certain  amount  of  variability  makes 


26  GRADES  OF  FEELING 

a    person    interesting;     too    much   variability 
destroys  our  respect  for  him. 

What  causes  the  difference  between  a  man  of 
profound  feeling  and  one  of  superficial  feeling  ? 
Perhaps  their  different  natures,  the  intellect, 
the  imagination,  the  training,  of  each.  As  has 
already  been  suggested,  the  intellect  or  the 
imagination  can  present  the  world  as  a  whole ; 
past  and  future  are  made  real,  and  there  is  less 
danger  of  superficial  and  changeful  feeling. 
Or  some  master  passion  may  control  all  the 
rest,  and  interpret  everything  into  the  same 
term,  as  when  a  person  in  profound  grief  is  no 
longer  moved  by  various  forms  of  pleasure. 
Further,  the  man  of  deep  feeling  lives  more 
according  to  principle  than  the  emotional  man. 
Principle  in  this  relation  need  not  mean  moral 
principle,  for  there  are  two  kinds  of  interest 
which  may  absorb  one,  interest  in  one's  self  or 
interest  in  one's  environment.  The  thoroughly 
selfish  as  well  as  the  thoroughly  unselfish  man 
may  live  by  principle,  and  be  similarly  unaf- 
fected by  superficial  feelings ;  the  interests  of 
either  may  be  as  broad  as  the  whole  world,  but 
the  selfish  man  interprets  all  from  the  point  of 


FEELING  AND   EXPERIENCE  27 

view  of  his  own  gain  or  passion,  the  unselfish 
man  with  a  view  to  the  good  of  others  than 
himself. 

In  training  the  feeling,  habit  and  knowledge 
are  great  powers.  Spinoza  suggests,  at  the 
close  of  the  "Ethics,"  that  the  object  most 
present  has  most  power  over  the  mind ;  that  if 
we  associate  the  thought  of  God  with  every 
experience,  this  thought,  and  also  the  feelings 
connected  with  it,  will  become  more  and  more 
masterful.  Similarly,  if  any  feeling  is  to  be 
profound  and  permanent,  it  must  be  associated 
with  every  experience. 

We  speak  of  men  of  mere  intellect  or  of  mere 
feeling,  What  do  we  mean  ?  Of  course  there 
is  no  such  thing  as  a  man  who  has  intellect 
alone.  Intellect  must  have  feeling  to  prompt 
it,  and  must  produce  feeling.  We  may  almost 
say  that  one  man  has  as  much  feeling  as  an- 
other, and  that  any  difference  is  not  in  amount 
but  in  kind.  What  we  really  mean  by  the  man 
of  mere  intellect  is  the  man  whose  delight  is  in 
the  processes  of  thought  themselves,  who  loves 
the  tool  rather  than  what  it  can  effect.  One 
man  as  he  looks  at  the  stars  through  a  tele- 


28  FEELING  AND   THOUGHT 

scope  is  interested  in  the  lenses  which  he  is 
using,  while  another  is  delighted  and  exalted 
by  what  he  sees,  the  revelation  of  the  heavens. 
Thus  when  people  speak  of  Goethe  and 
Schiller,  comparing  what  they  call  the  coldness 
of  Goethe  with  the  warmth  and  humanity  of 
Schiller,  they  really  mean,  not  that  Goethe  was 
without  feeling,  but  that  he  rejoiced  in  his  art ; 
that  was  his  fundamental  interest.  Schiller, 
on  the  other  hand,  rejoiced  rather  in  what  his 
art  represented,  and  thus  kept  in  relation  with 
the  external  world.  Goethe  may  have  felt 
the  very  deepest  delight  in  his  art.  To  think 
does  not  kill  feeling;  it  only  changes  its 
direction. 

The  assumption  often  is  that  the  exercise  of 
the  intellect  tends  to  lessen  the  force  of  feeling. 
The  argument  is  drawn  from  a  physical  figure. 
Here  is  so  much  force  to  be  applied ;  if  a  cer- 
tain amount  is  used  in  one  direction,  so  much 
the  less  remains  for  use  in  other  ways.  The 
analogy,  however,  is  false.  In  life,  use  tends 
to  develop  the  part  exercised  without  neces- 
sarily withdrawing  strength  from  other  parts. 
The  strength  of  a  blacksmith's  arm  has  not 


CONCEIT  OF  KNOWLEDGE  29 

been  gained  at  any  necessary  expense  to  the 
rest  of  the  body.  The  feelings  do  not  grow 
weak  because  the  intellect  is  used,  but  only  as 
they  are  not  themselves  exercised.  As  it  is 
possible  to  develop  the  whole  physical  man, 
so  the  entire  spiritual  nature  may  be  developed. 
The  ideal  life  is  expressed  in  Tennyson's 
words  : 

"  Let  knowledge  grow  from  more  to  more, 
But  more  of  reverence  in  us  dwell." 1 

Our  greatest  difficulty,  however,  arises  from 
what  may  be  called  the  conceit  of  the  under- 
standing. The  intellect  tends  to  assume  that 
its  analysis,  and  therefore  its  explanation,  is 
complete,  and  then  that  all  which  can  be 
analyzed  is  explained ;  it  is  always  trying 
to  exhaust  the  content  of  the  universe,  and 
ready  to  assume  that  it  has  succeeded.  Thus 
it  tends  to  check  and  discourage  all  feeling 
that  is  deeper  than  the  results  which  the 
intellect  has  reached.  Whole  periods  of  such 
"explanation"  come,  when  it  is  assumed  that 
everything  has  been  made  clear.  But  over 
against  what  has  been  explained  there  still 
1  **  In  Memoriam,"  the  prologue. 


30  FEELING  ITS  OWN  TEST 

remains  the  mystery  of  the  universe,  our 
ignorance  in  regard  to  our  own  lives.  Though 
certain  parts  of  the  sphere  have  been  illumi- 
nated, the  mass  is  still  opaque. 

How  are  we  to  measure  the  worth  of 
feeling  ?  Almost  every  feeling  is  a  judgment 
of  worth,  a  recognition  of  values.  Now,  some 
values  are  greater  than  others.  By  what  test 
are  we  to  decide  that  one  is  greater  than 
another?  Is  there  any  measure  that  we  can 
apply  from  without?  No.  It  is  sometimes 
said  that  we  test  the  worth  of  feeling  by  the 
worth  of  the  object  which  has  called  forth 
the  feeling;  but  the  truer  statement  would 
be  that  we  measure  the  worth  of  the  object 
by  the  nature  of  the  feeling  which  it  has 
aroused.  The  object  is  beautiful  because 
we  admire  it,  good  because  we  approve  it. 
Things  are  desirable  because  we  desire  them. 
Again  we  see  the  primacy  of  feeling.  It  is 
feeling  which  is  the  test  of  feeling.  We 
find,  however,  that  other  conditions  accompany 
the  feeling  which  supplies  the  test.  Intellect, 
taking  the  hint  which  feeling  has  given  it, 
classifies  and  systematizes,  and  declares  what 


EXTENT  OF  ENVIRONMENT  31 

is  worthy  of  admiration.  In  melodious  music 
the  ear  is  the  first  and  final  judge ;  but  the 
intellect  makes  a  science  of  music,  of  harmony, 
conforming  always  to  that  which  the  musical 
sense  recognizes  as  harmonious.  So  with  all 
our  judgments. 

We  recognize  that  there  are  two  aspects 
of  feeling  to  consider,  one  the  extent  of  the 
field  covered,  the  other  the  intensity  of  the 
feeling. 

Leaving  out  the  element  of  intensity  for 
the  time  being,  we  may  say  that  the  feelings 
which  refer  to  the  largest  portion  of  the 
environment  are  the  most  worthy.  This 
statement  is  rather  crude,  but  it  will  prepare 
the  way  for  something  more  satisfactory. 
Why  is  love  for  another  better  than  love  for 
oneself?  Why  is  it  worthier  for  A  to  love 
B,  and  B,  A,  than  for  A  to  love  A,  and  B,VB  ? 
It  may  be  said  that  the  love  of  A  for  B  opens 
to  A  a  larger  world.  Unselfish  love  is  often 
supposed  to  destroy  love  of  self;  but  there 
is  no  reason  to  believe  that  an  unselfish  person 
has  less  regard  for  himself  than  a  selfish  person. 
Love  of  A  for  B  does  not  destroy  love  of  A 


32          NECESSITY  OF  POSITIVE  RESPONSE 

for  A,  but  overpowers  it  for  a  time ;  A  loves 
not  self  less,  but  B  more.  The  feeling,  then, 
which  has  the  larger  sweep,  which  includes  the 
greater  portion  of  the  environment,  is  the  more 
worthy.  Further,  as  soon  as  we  begin  to  love 
a  thing  or  a  person  outside  ourselves,  and  life 
begins  to  enlarge,  the  possibility  is  present 
of  a  life  indefinitely  larger;  as  soon  as  A 
begins  to  love  B  and  his  little  shell  is  broken 
he  may  from  B  and  C  and  D  easily  go  on  to 
love  X  and  Y  and  Z ;  he  is  made  capable  of 
infinite  possibilities.  Thus  feeling  is  meas- 
ured by  largeness. 

Now,  if  the  response  to  a  large  environment 
is  best,  then  the  universe  is  a  good  place  in 
which  to  live.  This  is  the  optimistic  view. 
But  in  order  to  hold  this  view,  our  response 
to  the  environment  must  be  positive.  Given 
a  negative  response,  and  we  have  the  attitude 
found  in  the  Oriental  religions,  where  the 
universe  is  regarded  as  evil  and  men  are 
counselled  to  respond  to  as  little  of  it  as 
possible.  "  Where  ignorance  is  bliss,"  we 
hear  it  said,  "'tis  folly  to  be  wise." 

We  have  found  that  feeling  is  measured  by 


INTENSITY  33 

largeness.  We  need,  however,  to  modify  this 
conclusion.  Herbert  Spencer  defines  life  in 
terms  of  length  and  height, 1  that  is,  in  terms 
of  extension  and  intension.  So  it  is  with 
feeling;  it  must  have  intension  as  well  as 
extension.  Intensity  of  feeling  may  even  be 
higher  than  mere  extensiveness  or  complexity. 
We  may  see  a  thousand  details  in  the  flower, 
and  yet  miss  the  beauty  which  the  child  finds  in 
it  as  a  whole.  The  depth  of  our  feeling  toward 
God  depends  not  so  much  on  our  recognition  of 
the  extent  and  manifold  nature  of  creation  as 
upon  our  consciousness  of  the  unity  of  all 
things.  Compare  the  ignorant  woman  who  is 
religious  and  the  scientist  who  is  without  re- 
ligion. Has  not  the  scientist  the  larger 
environment  ?  Yes ;  but  the  woman  has  in 
her  less  extensive  environment  that  conscious- 
ness of  the  infinite  presence  beside  which  the 
environment  of  the  scientist,  in  whom  the  like 
consciousness  is  lacking,  is  as  nothing.  In  the 
case  of  feelings  obviously  less  worthy,  greater 
intensity  of  course  only  renders  them  still  more 
unworthy.  We  reach  the  greatest  height  when 
i"  Principles  of  Biology,"  Vol.  I,  Chaps.  IV-VI. 


34  WORTH  OF  INTENSIVE  AFFECTION 

we  can  have  both  the  recognition  of  unity, 
the  consciousness  of  the  infinite  presence,  and 
at  the  same  time  the  knowledge  of  details 
through  which  the  unity,  the  infinite  presence, 
is  manifested. 

We  meet  here  the  question  as  to  our  duty 
toward  a  few  as  compared  with  our  duty 
toward  many.  Which  is  worthier,  intensive 
or  extensive  affection?  We  distinguish  love 
for  our  immediate  circle  from  love  for  the 
remoter  but  larger  circle  of  society  in  general. 
How  shall  we  compare  the  love  of  a  person  for 
his  home,  while  he  is  more  or  less  indifferent 
to  this  larger  circle,  with  the  love  of  those  who 
are  interested  chiefly  in  the  larger  relations 
and  comparatively  indifferent  to  those  about 
them?  Some  have  refused  to  concede  ethical 
value  to  family  affection  on  the  ground  that 
it  is  instinctive ;  but  the  natural  affections 
have  ethical  value,  and  the  wider  interest  in 
mankind  will  reach  its  happiest  results  in  pro- 
portion as  it  becomes  equally  instinctive  with 
love  for  the  family.  It  is  in  a  certain  intensity 
of  personal  feeling  that  we  find  the  real  life, 
and  I  should  value  the  feeling  of  a  person 


CONFLICTING  AFFECTIONS  35 

closely  bound  to  his  own  circle  more  highly  than 
that  of  the  persons  who  are  indifferent  to  those 
near  them,  and  interested  in  a  remoter  circle. 
We  should  doubt  a  little  the  reality  of  their 
feeling,  and  should  ask  whether  it  were  not 
some  principle  other  than  love,  and  less  worthy, 
which  prompted  them  to  devote  themselves  to 
the  remoter  circle,  to  the  neglect  of  their  fami- 
lies or  nearer  friends. 

The  history  of  the  development  of  philan- 
thropy supports  us  in  this  view.  Out  of  affec- 
tion for  the  smaller  circle  has  come  affection 
for  the  larger  circle.  Love  of  race  has  grown 
from  love  of  family.  The  interest  of  a  man 
in  the  condition  of  the  slaves  might,  and  often 
did,  spring  from  the  tenderness  felt  toward 
his  own  immediate  household;  and  from  the 
same  source  nowadays  may  come  his  interest 
in  the  neglected  children  of  the  streets. 

There  are  cases  in  which  the  intensive  affec- 
tion and  the  extensive,  the  personal  and  the 
general,  come  into  conflict,  and  one  or  the 
other  must  give  way.  Thus,  in  time  of  war  a 
man  may  feel  it  his  duty  to  leave  his  home 
and  those  who  are  nearest  to  him,  in  order  to 


36  FEELING  AND  ACTION 

serve  his  country.  Yet  when  he  goes  we 
should  be  sorry  if  the  intensive,  personal  affec- 
tion were  lost ;  we  should  think  more  highly 
of  him  if  he  went  with  bleeding  heart.  When 
Jesus  says,  "  He  that  loveth  father  or  mother 
more  than  me  is  not  worthy  of  me," l  there  is 
nothing  to  imply  that  love  of  the  Master  is 
inconsistent  with  the  love  of  father  and  mother. 
Here  again,  if  love  of  the  father  and  mother 
were  wanting,  the  love  of  the  Master  would 
be  unworthy.2 

We  have  now  to  consider  the  relation  be- 
tween feeling  and  action.  Here  it  is  impor- 
tant to  distinguish  between  the  objective  and 
subjective  relations  of  feeling,  between  the 
standard  of  society  and  that  of  the  individual. 
In  the  case  of  society  we  judge  the  feeling  by 
the  result.  In  the  case  of  the  individual  we 
ask  what  was  the  motive  ;  the  act  has  worth 
according  to  the  motive,  the  feeling,  manifested 
through  it.  Now  when  we  ask  whether  society 
exists  for  the  individual,  or  the  individual  for 
society,  we  find,  if  we  take  the  broadest  view, 
that  it  is  society  which  exists  for  the  individual. 

1  Matt.  x.  37.  2  1  John  iv.  20 ;  also  1  Tim.  v.  8. 


ACTION  AS  MEASURE  OF  FEELING  37 

The  purpose  of  society  has  not  been  accom- 
plished when  each  member  has  been  clothed 
and  fed;  rather  society  is  then  just  ready  to 
begin  its  real  work,  the  elevation  of  the  indi- 
vidual, the  production  of  the  noblest  men  and 
women.  We  conclude,  therefore,  that  ulti- 
mately in  all  cases  the  motive  is  of  first  impor- 
tance, and  that  any  act  has  worth  according 
to  the  feeling  manifested  through  it. 

Under  ordinary  circumstances,  to  be  sure, 
we  say  that  the  act  is  the  measure  of  the  feel- 
ing. The  feeling  shows  itself  in  some  act,  and 
we  infer  the  feeling  and  judge  it  from  the  act. 
Even  so,  however,  we  recognize  that  the  act 
is  a  very  imperfect  measure  of  the  feeling. 
What  is  the  pressure  of  the  hand  to  the  part- 
ing friend,  in  comparison  with  our  affection  for 
him  and  our  sense  of  loss  in  his  going?  How 
far  is  the  gift  of  the  dollar,  or  of  the  hour  of 
one's  time,  to  some  charity,  a  real  measure  of 
the  interest  which  perhaps  moves  our  whole 
heart  ?  Nowhere  has  the  man  full  of  feeling 
opportunity  for  complete  expression.  You 
may  recall  how  Browning  emphasizes  this  in 
the  conflict  which  he  represents  as  taking 


38  ACTION  AS  MEASURE  OF  FEELING 

place  in  the  mind  of  Sordello  after  he  has 
learned  his  true  parentage,  and  is  debating 
what  to  do.1  "All  our  righteousnesses  are  as 
filthy  rags."  So  all  expressions  of  profound 
feeling  are  as  rags  in  comparison  with  that 
garment  without  seam,  the  feeling  itself. 

Is  there  not,  however,  a  danger  here  ?  Of 
what  value,  we  may  ask,  is  any  feeling  if  it 
does  not  lead  to  action  ?  That  will  depend 
upon  whether  or  not  circumstances  are  such  as 
to  render  action  possible.  What  is  required  is 
only  that  the  sympathy  be  real,  that  it  be 
strong  enough  and  deep  enough  to  lead  to 
action  if  circumstances  permit.  A  sufferer 
is  usually  more  grateful  for  sympathy  with- 
out help,  if  he  sees  that  the  sympathy  is 
real,  than  for  help  which  does  not  sympathize. 
The  difficulty  in  the  case  of  professed  feelings 
which  do  not  result  in  action  is  that  we  lose 
our  faith  in  the  reality  of  the  profession.  The 
act  is  simply  a  test,  a  measure  of  the  feeling. 

Some  people  enjoy  the  mere  stimulation  of 
the  feelings.  They  are  moved  by  fictitious  sor- 
row in  stories  and  on  the  stage,  and  are  un- 
i  Robert  Browning,  "  Sordello,"  Bk.  VI. 


FICTITIOUS  FEELING  39 

moved  by  the  sorrows  of  real  life.  Similarly 
one  may  come  to  look  upon  the  world  as  a 
stage,  and  rather  enjoy  the  patho's  of  it.  In 
such  cases  as  these,  however,  we  conclude  that 
the  feeling  is  not  real,  or  at  least  that  it  is 
superficial,  perhaps  an  unconscious  sense  of 
how  bad  it  would  all  be  if  it  were  true.  If  the 
feeling  were  more  real  or  more  profound,  it 
would  strive  to  express  itself  in  action. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  PRIORITY  OF  THE  RELIGIOUS  FEELING  AS 
COMPARED  WITH  THE  INTELLECTUAL  CON- 
CEPT—  THE  FIRST  DEFINITION  OF  RELIGION 

WE  have  seen  that  in  religion  feeling  has 
the  primacy  as  compared  with  intellect  and 
will.  We  have  now  to  ask  which  is  first  in 
point  of  time,  the  religious  feeling  or  the  in- 
tellectual concept.  Our  common  habit  of 
thought  is  to  regard  intellect  as  calling  out 
feeling  ;  if  we  are  to  reverence  a  noble  person, 
we  must  first  believe  that  the  person  has  those 
qualities  which  command  reverence.  But  is 
not  the  process  sometimes  reversed?  Does 
not  the  feeling  in  certain  cases  suggest  the 
thought?  A  child  is  being  put  to  bed,  and 
is  quiet  so  long  as  there  is  a  light  in  the  room  ; 
but  as  soon  as  the  light  is  taken  away,  the 
child  begins  to  fear  that  there  is  a  man  hidden 
in  the  closet.  Here  it  is  not  at  the  outset  the 
idea  of  the  man  which  causes  the  fear;  but 
40 


FEELING  PRIOR  TO   THOUGHT  41 

fear  creates  an  object  which,  if  real,  would  be 
the  cause  or  the  occasion  of  fear.  In  the  same 
way  a  man  alone  in  the  forest  hears  noises  as 
of  wild  beasts  ;  a  vague  terror  of  the  darkness 
concentrates  itself  into  a  definite  idea.  In 
such  cases  there  may  be  some  sound  or  other 
suggestion,  inadequate,  however,  in  itself  to 
produce  the  feeling  ;  the  terror  takes  advan- 
tage of  the  suggestion  and  fills  it  out.  So 
with  certain  temperaments  ;  the  suspicious  man 
believes  that  he  is  surrounded  by  enemies,  or 
by  those  who  are  indifferent  to  him  ;  his  sus- 
picion transforms  the  slightest  and  most  un- 
conscious acts  into  deliberate  slights  and 
insults. 

When  we  pass  to  more  important  examples, 
we  find  men  sacrificing  the  most  precious 
things  in  life,  even  life  itself,  for  the  sake  of 
a  feeling  which  bids  them  do  right.  We 
should  expect  to  find  some  rational  ground 
for  such  action.  But  if  we  ask  different  men 
why  they  act  as  they  do,  we  get  widely  differ- 
ent answers.  The  feeling  precedes  all  expla- 
nation of  it.  It  is  not  the  forms  of  ethical 
belief  that  have  created  the  moral  sense,  but 


42  IDEAS  OF  THE  REASON 

the  moral  sense  that  has  given  birth  to  the 
intellectual  recognition. 

We  find  ourselves  here  led  out  into  the 
grandest  relations  possible,  the  great  ideas  of 
truth  and  goodness  and  beauty.  In  these, 
feeling  seems  to  come  first.  The  belief  in  the 
unity  of  the  universe  is  taken  as  a  basis  for 
reasoning  long  before  it  is  consciously  ad- 
mitted. The  world  acted  upon  the  principle 
of  the  uniformity  of  law  for  ages  before  the 
generalization  was  formulated.  We  have  a 
feeling  of  good  faith  in  things,  we  do  not  won- 
der every  morning  if  the  sun  will  rise.-  The 
mind  accepts  this  faith  so  fully  that  it  has  no 
question  about  it.  You  may  have  heard  the 
story  of  the  old  lady  who  was  surprised  at 
Newton's  puzzle  over  the  fall  of  the  apple  to 
the  ground.  "  Of  course,"  she  said  ;  "  where 
would  it  fall?  It  couldn't  fall  up." 

The  confidence  in  the  uniformity  of  law  in 
the  world  is  so  natural  that  we  can  appeal  to 
nothing  else  even  when  we  wish  to  prove  it. 
It  would  be  difficult  for  us  to  give  ourselves 
an  answer  why  we  trust  in  it  as  we  do.  The 
instinctive  feeling  precedes  the  conscious  intel- 


PRIORITY  OF  FEELING  43 

lectual  recognition.  No  matter  for  the  present 
whether  this  instinct  is  natural  to  mind,  or  is 
the  result  of  the  accumulated  experience  of 
the  race.  All  that  we  need  to  see  is  the  power 
of  the  idea  or  feeling  before  the  idea  is  con- 
sciously recognized.  We  do  not  ask,  how 
many  consciously  recognize  the  truth  of  a 
doctrine,  but  how  many  act  as  though  they 
recognized  it.  Here  is  the  fallacy  in  Locke's 
argument  against  innate  ideas,1  that  they  are 
not  found  in  children  and  savages.  Although 
the  child  or  the  savage  may  not  be  conscious 
of  the  idea,  he  acts  as  though  he  were.  These 
great  truths  are  like  the  sun  ;  they  show  their 
power  and  light  before  they  rise  above  the 
intellectual  horizon. 

We  have  already  seen  that  this  is  true  in 
the  case  of  the  moral  sense.  It  is  equally 
true  in  regard  to  the  sense  of  beauty.  For 
while  most  of  us  have  some  knowledge  of 
what  is  right,  few  have  knowledge  as  to 
what  is  beautiful,  and  often  where  intellec- 
tual recognition  is  strongest  and  most  accu- 
rate, the  sense  of  beauty  is  most  lacking. 

1  "  Essay  concerning  Human  Understanding,"  Bk.  I. 


44  THEORIES  OF  REVELATION 

Beauty  cannot  be  described ;  one  can  only 
feel  it.  Try  to  describe  the  beauty  of  a 
picture,  and  what  you  have  pointed  out  may 
be  found  in  another  picture  which  is  not 
beautiful.  Read  Poe's  account  of  how  he 
wrote  "  The  Raven." l  You  may  fancy  that 
you  have  a  receipt  for  writing  poetry ;  but 
try  it ! 

Is  the  religious  feeling  also  similar  in  this 
regard  to  the  aesthetic  feeling  and  the  moral 
feeling?  Is  it,  like  them,  in  advance  of  the 
intellectual  recognition  which  is  logically  its 
basis?  If  not,  we  must  ask  whence  should 
come  the  intellectual  recognition?  From 
revelation?  How,  then,  was  the  revelation 
made?  Was  it  given  objectively,  coming 
wholly  from  without  ?  This  conception  is 
entertained  more  easily  if  we  assume  that  the 
race  had  a  single  origin,  either  as  regards 
some  individual  person,  or  in  respect  to  the 
place  of  origin.  The  conception,  however, 
becomes  more  difficult  as  the  question  of 
origin  becomes  complex.  There  is  difficulty 

1  Edgar  Allan  Foe,  Essays,  "The  Philosophy  of  Compo- 
sition." 


THEORIES  OF  REVELATION  45 

also  in  conceiving  how  the  revelation  should 
be  given.  Was  it  written  on  the  heavens, 
or  was  there  a  voice  from  heaven,  or  was 
there  an  incarnation  of  the  divine  upon  the 
earth?  If,  on  the  other  hand,  we  conceive 
that  the  revelation  was  given  subjectively, 
impressed  upon  the  nature  of  the  soul,  an 
inner  and  not  an  outer  revelation,  it  may 
have  come  primarily  either  through  the  intel- 
lect or  through  the  feeling.  So  that  the 
answer  in  this  case  to  our  question  whether 
intellectual  recognition  came  through  revela- 
tion cannot  help  us  unless  it  can  tell  us 
whether  the  revelation  was  made  through  in- 
tellect or  through  feeling. 

Another  theory  of  revelation  is  found  in 
the  hypothesis  of  an  actual  presentation  of 
the  object  which  excites  the  religious  feel- 
ing. This  theory  is  very  distinctly  stated 
by  Tylor.1  According  to  him,  religion  con- 
sists in  the  recognition  of  supernatural  beings, 
the  knowledge  of  whom  comes  through  dreams. 
But  does  religion  consist  in  this?  The  facts 
on  which  the  theory  is  based  may  be  real ;  but 
i  "Primitive  Culture,"  Vol.  I,  p.  424. 


46  THEORIES  OF  REVELATION 

we  have  here  two  questions  :  first,  as  to  the 
beginning  of  a  belief  in  immortality ;  and 
second,  as  to  the  origin  of  religion;  and  the 
two  questions  are  not  necessarily  one  and  the 
same.  Setting  aside  any  question  as  to  a 
belief  in  immortality,  does  religion  consist  in 
a  belief  in  disembodied  spirits?  We  must 
apply  here  the  method  of  difference,  and  ask 
whether  religion  and  a  belief  in  spirits  neces- 
sarily accompany  each  other.  The  savage,  it 
is  said,  dreams,  and  thinks  that  he  really  sees 
the  spirits  of  the  dead.  He  certainly  has  a 
great  dread  of  these  spirits  ;  he  tries  to  pro- 
pitiate them  ;  he  has  even  a  religious  feeling 
toward  them.  But  the  dream  is,  so  to  speak, 
the  land  in  which  the  spirits  dwell.  If  reli- 
gion is  what  this  theory  assumes,  we  should 
suppose  that  the  savage  would  dread  to  go  to 
sleep.  Just  as  in  Fouque's  story  of  Undine 
the  hero  is  afraid  of  sleep,  expecting  to  be 
haunted  by  the  water  nymph,  so  according  to 
this  theory  the  savage  should  feel  as  if  sleep 
were  haunted.  He  appears,  however,  to  go 
to  sleep  with  as  little  fear  as  the  civilized 
man,  and  even  sometimes  prepares  for  dreamy 


SPIRITUALISM  47 

sleep  by  fasting.  The  belief  of  the  savage, 
then,  in  the  life  of  his  ancestors  after  death, 
is  not  sufficient  as  an  explanation  of  religion. 
It  may  affect  the  mind  religiously  ;  we  may 
have,  perhaps,  all  the  'conditions  of  Tylor's 
definition  of  religion,  but  we  have  not  reli- 
gion itself. 

Again,  if  the  theory  is  true,  the  phenomena 
of  spiritualism  should  be  in  all  cases  religious. 
I  am  not  here  discussing  the  truth  of  spirit- 
ualism as  such,  but  simply  the  question  as  to 
any  necessary  connection  between  its  phenom- 
ena and  religion.  We  find  that  there  is  no 
such  necessary  connection.  On  the  contrary, 
the  spiritualist  bears  himself  with  as  little 
awe  or  reverence  in  the  presence  of  the 
spirits  of  the  departed  as  among  the  living. 
In  the  intercourse  which  is  professedly  held, 
we  find  nothing  of  religious  or  even  supersti- 
tious feeling;  and  unless  we  are  to  assume 
that  a  belief  in  life  after  death  is  religion, 
we  cannot  conclude  that  there  is  any  more 
religion  in  the  communication  with  disem- 
bodied spirits  than  in  ordinary  human  inter- 
course. On  the  other  hand,  religious  feeling 


48  LEADERSHIP  OF  FEELING 

may  exist  without  the  belief  in  the  spirits  of 
the  dead.  At  least,  we  find  a  worship  of 
nature  which  is  seemingly  independent  of  any 
belief  in  disembodied  spirits. 

It  remains  now  for  us  to  ask  whether  the 
intellectual  recognition  might  be  the  result 
of  a  process  of  reasoning.  It  is  said  that 
men  by  reasoning  have  arrived  at  certain 
beliefs  which  occasion  the  religious  feeling. 
No  doubt  this  is  true  to  some  extent  in  the 
development  of  religion.  Here,  however,  as 
elsewhere,  the  very  beginnings  of  history  are 
sealed  to  us.  As  far  back  as  we  can  go  we 
find  men  religious.  We  have  to  use  again 
the  method  of  concomitant  variation.  Prac- 
tically and  historically  we  find  religious  feel- 
ing and  intellectual  recognition  coexisting. 
Is  recognition  always  in  advance  of  feeling,  or 
vice  versa?  Sometimes  intellect,  sometimes 
feeling,  takes  the  lead ;  but  feeling  appears 
to  have  the  larger  part.  Take  the  case  of 
the  classic  religions.  Here  we  have  definitely 
recognized  objects  of  worship.  We  find  feel- 
ing in  advance,  a  reverence  in  the  early  wor- 
ship which  is  not  justified  by  the  intellectual 


LEADERSHIP   OF  FEELING  49 

conception  of  the  time.  Then,  as  the  ethical 
sense  is  developed,  a  higher  intellectual  con- 
ception follows.  When,  as  was  well  said,  the 
morals  of  Athens  became  higher  than  the 
morals  of  Olympus,  men  were  obliged  either 
to  give  up  their  worship,  or  else  to  confess 
that  their  intellectual  conception  of  the  gods 
misrepresented  them.  Thus  the  conception  of 
Zeus  became  an  ideal  which  to  the  more  pro- 
found thinker  was  free  from  the  traits  which 
made  the  early  Zeus  unworthy  of  thoughtful 
worship.  In  Christianity,  also,  we  find  in 
the  same  way  the  change  to  higher  concep- 
tions of  the  attributes  of  God  following  upon 
the  dissatisfaction  of  the  feeling,  the  heart, 
with  existing  conceptions.  Feeling  is  con- 
stantly demanding  that  the  object  of  worship 
shall  be  conceived  as  altogether  worshipful. 

Again,  a  sense  of  infinitude  is  essential  to 
religion  in  its  highest  form.  Now,  Hume 
and  Kant  are  only  foremost  among  many  in 
urging  that,  so  far  as  the  reason  is  concerned, 
we  could  reach  no  higher  conception  of  life 
than  the  manifestation  found  in  the  world 
about  us.  We  cannot  reason  from  the  world 


50  FEELING  A  SOURCE  OF  ILLUSION 

to  a  god  having  more  wisdom  and  power 
than  is  manifested  in  the  world.  We  might 
prove  the  divinity  to  be  very  good,  very 
mighty,  but  not  absolutely  good  and  mighty.  \ 
Yet  the  thought  of  Christianity  has  leaped 
beyond  any  conception  which  could  be  based 
on  what  is  found  in  the  external  world,  has 
ascribed  higher  qualities  to  divinity  than  a 
superficial  view  of  the  external  world  would 
justify.  Why?  Because  feeling  has  reached 
a  point  in  its  development  where  it  demands 
this  highest  conception  as  essential.  It  can- 
not rest  in  anything  less  than  the  infinite, 
and  so  it  urges  the  reason  on. 

It  may  be  said  that  the  influence  of  feeling 
upon  the  intellect  is  sometimes  a  source  of 
illusions.  It  is  true  that  illusions  are  created 
by  feeling,  as  when  the  lover  attributes  to  the 
object  of  his  affection  beauties  of  person  and 
qualities  of  mind  not  found  in  her  by  others. 
Especially  may  illusion  result  when  some 
deeper  feeling  assumes  that  its  object  is  found 
in  finite  form,  is  already  embodied  in  an  indi- 
vidual person.  The  religious  soul  clothes 
some  leader  with  all  the  glories  which  it  de- 


RELIGION  IS  FEELING  51 

mands  in  a  perfect  being,  and  then,  if  the  leader 
is  found  to  be  in  any  way  frail,  the  temptation 
comes  to  abandon  the  ideal  altogether  as  being 
itself  an  illusion.  The  feeling,  however,  which 
guides  reason  and  the  life  is  that  which  relates 
to  the  universe  as  a  whole.  Such  feeling  is 
bound  up  with  the  human  soul  itself,  it  stands 
nearest  to  man.  It  is  not  the  person  himself, 
it  only  represents  him  ;  but  it  is  his  most  direct 
representative,  his  innermost  manifestation. 

"We  conclude  from  this  consideration  of  the 
sources  which  have  been  proposed  for  the  intel- 
lectual recognition  that,  like  the  aesthetic  and 
the  moral  feeling,  the  religious  feeling  also  is 
in  advance  of  intellectual  recognition.  Fur- 
ther, as  the  result  of  our  examination  as  a 
whole,  thus  far,  we  reach  our  first  definition  of 
religion.  RELIGION  is  FEELING,  OR  ESSEN- 
TIALLY PEELING.  This  first  definition  is  the 
most  abstract  and  most  extensive  of  the  various 
definitions  at  which  we  may  arrive.  Our  \ 
later  definitions  are  to  add  each  something  / 
more  typical,  until  we  reach  finally  the  most 
distinct  and  the  highest  type. 


CHAPTER  V 

SPENCER'S  RECONCILIATION  OF  SCIENCE  AND 
RELIGION  —  SCHLEIERMACHER'S  DEFINITION 
OF  RELIGION 

WE  say  that  religion  is  feeling.  The  ques- 
tion at  once  follows,  What  kind  of  feeling? 
Before  we  undertake  to  answer  this  question, 
however,  let  us  consider  two  illustrations  of 
our  general  theme,  Herbert  Spencer's  recon- 
ciliation of  religion  and  science,1  and  Schleier- 
macher's  definition  of  religion  as  feeling. 

In  order  to  reconcile  religion  and  science  it 
would  seem  to  be  necessary,  first  to  determine 
the  nature  of  each,  and  then  to  compare  them. 
Over  against  the  recognized  unity  of  science 
under  its  different  aspects  are  many  religions. 
We  should  naturally,  therefore,  try  first  of  all 
to  find  the  common  element  in  all  religions  to 
oppose  to  the  unity  of  science,  discovering  their 

i  "First  Principles,"  Pt.  I,  Chaps.  I-V. 
52 


SPENCER'S  BASIS  OF  RELIGION  53 

agreements  and  their  differences,  and  throwing 
aside  the  differences. 

Spencer,  however,  proceeds  in  a  somewhat 
different  way.  Without  entering  much  into 
comparisons,  he  assumes  that  the  common  ele- 
ment in  all  religions  is  the  question  as  to  the 
origin  of  the  world.  To  this  question  he  finds 
three  kinds  of  answers,  the  atheistic,  the  pan- 
theistic, and  the  theistic.  Each  and  all  of 
these  answers,  however,  he  regards  as  unthink- 
able, because  they  involve  us  in  contradictions. 
Hence  he  concludes  that  the  basis  of  all  reli- 
gion is  mystery,  a  question  which  cannot  be 
answered,  and  he  fortifies  his  position  by  refer- 
ence to  statements  of  the  theologians  express- 
ing their  sense  of  mystery.  By  a  similar 
process  he  shows  that  the  fundamental  notions 
of  science  —  force,  space,  etc. — issue  in  self- 
contradiction  and  mystery.  Hence,  religion 
and  science  both  rest  on  mystery.  Religion 
looks  one  way,  recognizing  the  mystery  itself, 
the  unknown  and  unknowable  cause  or  basis  of 
the  universe.  Science  looks  in  the  other  direc- 
tion, and  sees  what  is  built  upon  this  basis  of 
mystery.  Science  is  the  seemingly  solid  crust 


54  OBJECTIONS  TO  SPENCER'S   VIEW 

of  snow  on  which  men  erect  a  shelter,  and 
religion  is  the  sense  of  the  vacancy  beneath. 

Have  we  here  a  real  reconciliation  ?  We 
meet  with  difficulties  at  once.  In  the  first 
place,  religion  is  not  an  answer  to  a  question, 
certainly  not  to  a  question  as  to  the  origin  of 
the  world.  In  the  history  of  religion  the  cos- 
mogonists  come  late  ;  people  did  not  wait  for 
the  religious  feeling  until  they  knew  how  the 
world  was  made.  The  first  question  of  the 
cosmogonists,  too,  concerns  the  arrangement 
of  the  world  rather  than  its  creation.  For  the 
most  part  the  older  divinities  took  shape  out 
of  the  thought  of  the  spirits  of  the  dead,  or 
out  of  the  personification  of  natural  objects 
and  forces.  They  represent,  not  the  creators 
of  these  forces  and  objects,  but  their  powers, 
the  help  or  the  peril  which  may  come  from 
them.  Agni  is  not  represented  as  the  creator 
of  fire,  but  is  the  power  of  fire.  Poseidon  is 
not  the  creator  of  the  ocean,  but  the  personifi- 
cation of  its  power  and  majesty.  Religion  is 
not  the  recognition  or  the  worship  of  the 
creator  of  things,  but  of  the  divinity  in  things. 

The  question,  "  Who  made  it  ?  "  is  not  natural 


RELIGION  NOT  CONCERNED    WITH  ORIGINS     55 

to  the  child  or  to  the  savage.  At  times  it 
may  appear  so,  but  in  such  cases  we  have  to 
ask  how  much  has  entered  the  thought  of  the 
child  or  the  savage  from  those  with  whom  he 
has  come  in  contact.  Ordinarily  the  child 
and  the  savage  recognize  three  sorts  of  things, 
inorganic,  organic,  and  manufactured.  The 
inorganic  is  simply  taken  for  granted  as  exist- 
ing, the  organic  is  thought  of  as  having  grown, 
and  the  manufactured  as  put  together.  Life, 
they  think,  simply  grew ;  Topsy's  answer,  "  I 
'spect  I  grow'd,"  tells  their  view  of  it.  In 
our  own  time  also  the  question  as  to  creation, 
taken  alone,  holds  an  unimportant  position, 
and  the  term  "  Creator "  is  less  used  than 
formerly.  The  question  as  to  the  origin  of 
the  world  is  scientific  rather  than  theological, 
scientific,  that  is,  in  the  larger  sense.  Religion 
may  use  the  answer,  but  cannot  give  the  an- 
swer. God  made  the  flower,  but  how  it  was 
made  science  alone  can  tell.  Religion  will 
find  God  in  the  world ;  how  it  finds  him  does 
not  matter.  The  question  that  religion  first 
asks  is  not,  "  Who  made  the  world  ? "  but 
"Who  will  help  me  and  whom  shall  I  thank 


56  NECESSITY  OF  MYSTERY 

for  my  favors  ? "  Religion  has  to  do,  not 
with  the  past,  but  with  the  present  and  the 
future. 

In  the  second  place,  Spencer's  use  of  the 
term  "  mystery "  is  ambiguous.  We  do  in- 
deed owe  a  debt  to  him  for  emphasizing  that 
which  is  one  of  the  great  elements  in  religion. 
Although  the  place  which  it  fills  is  secondary, 
although  that  which  calls  forth  the  religious 
feeling  is  not  so  much  what  is  known  to  be 
not  known  as  what  is  known,  still  a  religion 
without  mystery  would  be  extremely  superfi- 
cial and  unworthy.  A  religion  which  should 
assume  that  everything  is  accounted  for  by  its 
formulas  would  be  imperfect  and  prosaic.  As 
the  darkness  adds  to  life  the  element  of  awe, 
so  the  sense  of  mystery  adds  impressiveness 
to  religion.  Take  the  thought  of  death  and 
of  the  future  life.  A  religion  which  saw  the 
future  life  continuing  our  ordinary  relations, 
and  took  from  death  its  mystery,  might  bring 
to  some  a  certain  comfort ;  but  we  should  lose 
in  it  an  important  element  which  belongs 
properly  to  religion.  "Eye  hath  not  seen, 
nor  ear  heard,  neither  have  entered  into  the 


NATURE  OF  RELIGIOUS  MYSTERY  57 

heart  of  man,  the  things  which  God  hath  pre- 
pared for  them  that  love  him."1 

The  mystery,  however,  which  Spencer  dis- 
covers is  that  which  appears  to  the  outsider 
who  looks  upon  religion  to  study  and  analyze 
it,  not  the  mystery  felt  by  the  worshipper  be- 
fore his  God.  The  worshipper  is  fully  satisfied 
with  the  answer  which  he  receives  to  the  ques- 
tion, who  made  the  world  ;  he  finds  in  it  no 
self-contradiction  ;  for  him  it  simply  testifies 
to  the  power  and  grandeur  of  his  divinity. 
"  In  the  beginning  God  created  the  heaven  and 
the  earth  ;  " 2  the  worshipper  accepts  the  an- 
swer as  a  simple  fact,  and  rests  in  the  great- 
ness and  the  glory  of  it.  This  is  the  mystery 
which  the  theologians  have  recognized  in  the 
object  worshipped,  the  mystery  which  Isaiah 
found  ;  "Neither  are  your  ways  my  ways,  saitli 
the  Lord."3  It  is  not,  however,  the  whole  of 
the  religion  of  the  theologians  nor  the  essen- 
tial part  of  it.  What  they  find  essential  is  the 
positive  aspect  of  religion,  the  great  truths  and 
facts  about  God. 
I  Further,  religion  and  science  stand  less  in 

i  Is.  Ixiv.  4 ;  1  Cor.  ii.  9.         2  Gen.  i.  1.         »  Is.  Iv.  8. 


58          IDEAL  METHOD   OF  RECONCILIATION 

antithesis  to  each  other  than  Spencer  reeog- 
!nizes.  If  it  is  true  of  science  that  it  builds 
upon  mystery,  the  same  is  equally  true  of 
religion.  Religion  has  its  structure  as  truly 
as  science.  Each  has  its  system  of  doctrines, 
each  its  positive  beliefs,  each  its  mystery 
veiled  by  its  beliefs.  Spencer's  reconciliation 
sweeps  away  the  structures  of  both,  all  that 
is  positive  in  both,  and  leaves  only  the  empty 
places  where  they  were. 

The  ideal  reconciliation  would  find  some- 
thing in  common  between  religion  and 
science,  not  in  their  negative,  but  in  their 
positive  aspects.  There  were  at  one  time  two 
theories  in  regard  to  the  formation  of  the 
earth,  the  igneous  and  the  aqueous,  but  we 
do  not  hear  of  them  now.  How  have  they 
been  reconciled?  If  Spencer's  method  of 
reconciliation  between  science  and  religion 
had  been  followed,  the  argument  would  have 
been,  that  the  world  was  in  some  way  formed, 
that  neither  theory  was  adequate  to  explain 
the  formation,  and  that  the  theories  were 
thus  reconciled  in  that  both  were  impotent. 
If,  however,  while  we  grant  that  either  theory 


IDEAL  METHOD   OF  RECONCILIATION         59 

by  itself  is  inadequate,  we  recognize  that 
each  has  contributed  something  toward  the 
final  explanation,  then  we  have  a  reconcilia- 
tion which  is  no  longer  negative,  but  positive. 
Spencer  himself  gives  us  a  beautiful  type  of 
positive  reconciliation  in  his  solution  of  the 
problem  between  the  a  priori  and  the  experi- 
mental schools  of  philosophy.1  According  to 
the  a  priori  philosophers  we  construct  the 
world  under  categories  born  in  us.  The 
experience-philosophers  hold  that  the  mind 
is  a  blank  at  the  outset,  and  that  all 
ideas  are  the  result  of  experience.  Spencer 
reconciles  the  two  by  saying  that  we  do 
come  into  the  world  with  innate  ideas,  but 
that  these  ideas  are  the  result  of  our  in- 
herited experience.  Looking  at  present  fact, 
the  a  priori  philosophers  are  right;  looking 
at  ultimate  fact,  the  experience-philosophers. 
The  a  priori  philosophers,  dealing  in  theories, 
are  found  to  be  the  school  which  actually 
recognizes  facts  as  they  are;  the  experience- 
philosophers,  insisting  upon  fact,  and  urg- 
ing that  all  ideas  result  from  the  pressure  of 
1  "First  Principles,"  Ft.  I,  Chap.  V. 


60  SCHLEIERMACHER'' S  DEFINITION 

outward  conditions,  are  found  to  be  wrong 
in  fact,  but  right  in  ultimate  theory.  Grant- 
ing what  is  assumed,  we  have  here  a  perfect 
type  of  reconciliation.  It  is  very  interesting 
in  itself,  and  it  illustrates  the  method  which 
we  should  follow  in  seeking  a  reconciliation 
between  religion  and  science. 

Let  us  turn  now  to  the  definition  of  religion 
given  by  Schleiermacher,  the  theologian  and 
philosopher  who  has  made  most  of  feeling  as 
an  element  in  religion.  We  shall  find  his 
presentation  inadequate  ;  but  no  writer  has  had 
more  influence  on  modern  theological  thought. 
He  is  one  of  the  pillars  of  Hercules,  with  Hegel 
the  other,  that  mark  the  entrance  through 
which  one  passes  into  modern  theology. 

We  find  two  statements  by  Schleiermacher, 
the  one  popular,  the  other  scientific,  the 
"Reden"1  and  the  "Glaubenslehre."2  The 
"Reden"  were  addressed  to  the  cultivated 
people  of  his  time,  who  had  little  sympathy 

1  "  Reden  iiber  die  Religion,"  1799. 

2uDer  Christliche  Glau.be  nach  den  Grundsatzen  der 
evangelisclien  Kirche;"  1st  ed.,  1821-1822;  2d  ed., 
1830-1831. 


THE  "RED EN"  61 

with  religion.  He  undertook  to  win  them 
to  the  support  of  religion,  trying  not  to 
make  them  religious,  but  to  prove  to  them 
that  they  were  religious,  or  at  least  had 
within  them  the  germs  of  the  religious  life. 
There  is  a  certain  sophistry  in  these  dis- 
courses, but  it  is  the  result  of  his  purpose. 
His  method  is  that  of  the  hunter  or  soldier, 
who  draws  a  cordon  around  those  whom  he  is 
to  take  and  then  closes  in  upon  them.  Religion 
is  feeling ;  no  one  can  deny  that  he  has  feel- 
ing; therefore  no  one  can  deny  that  he  is 
religious.  This  is  the  first  statement,  and  it  • 
is  against  this  that  the  objection  made  by 
Hegel  to  Schleiermacher's  definition  has  its 
full  force.  The  circle,  however,  is  drawn 
closer  and  closer  as  we  proceed.  Feeling 
must  be  healthy  and  normal;  it  must  be 
complete,  toward  all.  Complete  feeling 
should  be  not  in  successive  moments,  but 
toward  the  whole  at  once.  But  this  in- 
volves the  unity  of  the  world.  Feeling,  then, 
must  be  toward  the  Weltgeist.  The  Weltgeist 
may  be  either  personal  or  impersonal ; 
Schleiermacher  himself  recognizes  not  a  per- 


62  THE  DEFINITION  QUALIFIED 

sonal,  but  a  spiritual  God.  In  the  first 
edition  of  the  "  Reden,"  a  certain  intellectual 
element,  Anschauung,  was  added  to  the  modi- 
fications of  feeling;  but  this  is  omitted  in 
later  editions. 

Schleiermacher's  most  general  statement, 
that  feeling  is  religion,  must  be  taken  in  its 
more  developed  form,  in  which  the  qualifica- 
tions have  been  added.  Between  the  first 
general  statement  and  this  later  developed 
form  there  is  a  seeming  contradiction  which 
he  never  explained.  It  is  possible  that  he 
considered  such  broken  feelings  as  are  com- 
monly experienced  not  true  feeling.  If,  for 
instance,  we  say  that  all  sound  is  music,  musi- 
cians would  at  once  contradict  us.  But  sup- 
pose we  say  that  sound  is  not  to  be  judged 
by  the  accident  of  noises,  but  must  be  left 
to  follow  out  its  laws  instead  of  being  broken 
up  by  its  environment.  In  this  way  we 
could  make  out  a  good  case,  and  it  may  be 
that  Schleiermacher  had  some  such  idea  of 
feeling.  He  speaks  very  slightingly  of  super- 
ficial feeling,  as  for  example  that  of  the  woman 
who  goes  aimlessly  about  in  the  woods  exclaim- 


THE  DEFINITION    QUALIFIED  63 

ing  at  pretty  flowers.  If  we  ask  what  test 
shall  be  applied  to  ascertain  how  far  feeling 
is  profound,  the  only  test  is  one  not  expressly 
admitted  by  Schleierinacher,  although  he  hints 
at  it,  that  the  more  profound  feeling  is  that 
which  touches  the  greater  environment.  By 
this  test  we  should  find  that  the  feeling  which 
relates  to  only  a  small  part  of  the  environment 
is  not  true  feeling ;  true  feeling  would  be  the 
contact  of  the  whole  man  with  the  whole 
environment. 

Schleiermacher's  position  has  a  strategical 
advantage.  No  intellectual  statement  is  neces- 
sary for  religion.  Religion  is  distinct  alike 
from  intellect  and  from  will.  It  prompts 
directly  to  no  act.  Thus  religion  is  freed 
from  responsibility  for  the  dogmas  of  the 
church  and  for  the  wars  and  persecutions  for 
which  it  has  been  blamed.  It  is  like  music. 
Music  is  pure,  though  it  may  accompany 
armies ;  we  cannot  object  to  it  that  it  has 
been  used  by  people  who  were  guilty  of 
crimes ;  we  cannot  complain  of  its  use  in 
teaching  of  which  we  do  not  approve.  So  it 
is  with  religion. 


64  THE  "  GLAUBENSLEHRE" 

In  the  "  Glaubenslehre "  we  have  Schleier- 
macher's  later  statement.  Here  again  he 
insists  upon  feeling ;  but  the  account  which 
he  gives  of  it  and  the  method  of  presentation 
are  both  different.  The  style  is  no  longer 
poetic  and  voluptuous,  as  in  the  "  Reden,"  but 
dry  and  formal,  the  discussion  of  a  system  of 
theology  addressed  to  thoughtful  students. 
All  feelings  now  are  gathered  into  one;  abso- 
lute dependence  not  merely  accompanies  reli- 
gion, but  is  religion.  It  is  discouraging  to 
see  the  misunderstandings  which  have  gathered 
about  this  statement.  The  Duke  of  Argyll, 
for  instance,  says  l  that  if  the  sense  of  absolute 
dependence  is  religion,  a  great  deal  is  included 
which  cannot  be  called  religion ;  a  man  cling- 
ing to  a  log  in  the  stream  is  absolutely 
dependent  upon  it,  but  he  has  no  religious 
feeling  toward  it.  So  D'  Alviella,2  when  he  says 
that  according  to  this  definition  of  religion 
a  man  would  have  to  .worship  everything,  from 
his  own  limbs  to  the  law  of  gravitation.  In 

1  "  Unity  of  Nature,"  p.  453. 

2  Count  Goblet  <T  Alviella,  "  Hibbert  Lectures,"  1891, 
p.  69. 


ITS  "ABSOLUTE  DEPENDENCE"  65 

these  criticisms  we  find  the  same  misconcep- 
tion. They  fail  to  recognize  the  full  meaning 
with  which  Schleiermacher  uses  the  term 
"absolute."  The  Duke  of  Argyll  does  not 
distinguish  it  from  partial,  D'  Alviella  disre- 
gards it  altogether.  When  a  man  is  floating 
on  a  log  in  the  stream,  the  log  is  indeed  a 
sine  qua  non;  but  there  is  a  difference  between 
a  sine  qua  non  and  absolute  dependence;  the 
man  is  not  wholly  dependent  upon  the  log 
alone,  but  on  many  other  things  beside,  such 
as  air  and  food  and  warmth.  In  the  same 
way  a  man  could  not  exist  by  the  law  of  gravi- 
tation alone.  In  all  these  relations  the  man's 
dependence  is  partial,  not  absolute.  The 
absolute  dependence  of  Schleiermacher  is  far 
more  complete  and  intimate  and  penetrating. 
If  that  on  which  one  is  absolutely  dependent 
is  present,  one  needs  nothing  more.  Absolute 
dependence  is  that  which  goes  through  and 
behind  all  things.  The  universe  shares  this 
dependence,  not  a  sense,  but  the  sense,  of  abso- 
lute dependence  ;  for  there  is  but  one  unity  of 
the  universe  and  one  spiritual  centre,  and  one 
possibility  of  absolute  dependence. 


66  HOW  MISCONCEIVED 

Even  Pfleiderer1  fails  to  reach  the  real 
meaning  of  this  absolute  dependence.  If  the 
sense  of  dependence  is  religion,  he  says,  then 
the  Mohammedan  is  the  most  religious  of 
men ;  for  he  is  a  fatalist ;  for  him  all  is 
appointed,  and  he  submits  to  the  will  of 
Allah.  But  this  is  superficial,  external  de- 
pendence. The  Moslem  accepts  his  fate  at  the 
will  of  Allah  simply  as  one  who  is  dependent 
upon  the  power  of  another  which  is  greater 
than  his  own.  Absolute  dependence  is  some- 
thing more  intimate  than  any  fate  dependent 
upon  another's  will.  It  is  penetration,  through 
and  through.  We  cannot  live,  think,  feel,  be 
anything,  merely  in  ourselves.  Absolute  de- 
pendence is  not  that  of  one  personality  upon 
another  over  against  it,  disposing  of  it  as  it 
will;  absolute  dependence  is  the  relation  to 
the  spiritual  centre  in  whom  we  live  and 
move  and  have  our  being,  and  without  whom 
we  are  nothing. 

Suppose  the  submission  were  unwilling. 
Would  such  dependence  be  religion  ?  Willing 

1;'The  Development  of  Theology  in  Germany  since 
Kant,"  trans,  by  J.  Frederick  Smith,  Bk.  II,  Chap.  II. 


THREE  STAGES  IN  DEVELOPMENT  67 

or  unwilling,  from  Pfleiderer's  standpoint  it 
must  be  religion.  But  if  a  person  submits 
unwillingly,  he  has  not  yet  reached  the  sense 
of  absolute  dependence ;  he  still  thinks  of 
himself  as  something  apart  and  independent 
in  that  he  protests. 

Schleiermacher  recognizes  three  stages  in 
psychical  development.  In  the  first  we  have 
confused  self -consciousness.  The  dog  has  no 
distinct  sense  of  his  own  individuality  or  of 
the  world  as  over  against  him.  This  is  the 
life  of  the  child  before  he  can  say  "I."  In 
the  second  stage  there  is  action  and  reaction, 
the  relation  of  give  and  take,  the  man  over  v 
against  the  world.  Man  depends  partly  on 
himself,  partly  on  the  things  about  him,  and 
in  turn  many  things  depend  upon  him.  He 
affects  the  outside  world,  and  the  world 
reacts  upon  him.  Then  comes  the  third -^-r- 
stage,  the  sense  of  absolute  dependence,  all 
this  little  action  and  reaction  disappearing. 
The  sense  of  partial  independence  is  lost. 
Man  utters  the  cry  of  absolute  dependence, 
and  in  so  doing  speaks  not  only  for  himself, 
but  as  the  high  priest  of  the  universe. 


68      DEPENDENCE  THE  FINAL  STAGE 

This  sense  of  absolute  dependence  is  not 
merely  something  which  forms  a  part  of  reli- 
gion, as  with  Calvin ;  it  is  religion  itself, 
nothing  else  than  religion,  and  religion  noth- 
ing else  than  it.  It  follows  that  the  perfectly 
religious  man  would  be  one  who  should  live 
wholly  in  the  sense  of  absolute  dependence  ; 
absolute  irreligion  would  be  found  in  the 
entire  absence  of  this  sense;  and  the  degree 
of  one's  religion  would  be  marked  by  the 
greater  or  less  degree  of  ease  with  which  the 
mind  entered  into  the  state  of  dependence. 
Thus  some  men  are  more  religious  than 
others,  and  the  same  man  may  be  more  reli- 
gious at  one  time  than  at  another,  because  it 
is  more  difficult  to  reach  the  state  of  absolute 
dependence  at  certain  times  and  under  certain 
conditions  than  at  other  times  and  under  other 
conditions. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  BASIS  OF  SCHLEIER- 
MACHER'S  DEFINITION  —  CRITICISM  OF  THE 
DEFINITION  —  EXAMINATION  OF  THE  AT- 
TEMPTS WHICH  HAVE  BEEN  MADE  TO  SUPPLY 
WHAT  IS  LACKING  IN  THE  DEFINITION 

LET  us  see  what  is  the  psychological  view 
on  which  Schleiermacher  bases  his  definition. 
At  this  point  we  shall  find  Weissenborn's 
"  Introduction "  l  most  helpful.  According 
to  Schleiermacher,  the  intellect  and  the  will 
occupy  two  extremes  like  the  poles  of  a  mag- 
net. The  will  is  to  be  moved  by  the  intel- 
lect, but  how  is  the  intellect  to  reach  the 
will?  Now  in  passing  from  one  pole  of  the 
magnet  to  the  other  a  point  of  indifference  is 
found.  In  the  same  way,  as  we  pass  from 
the  intellect  to  the  will,  we  find  an  inter- 
mediate point  which  is  neither  will  nor  intel- 

1  Georg  Weissenborn,  "  Vorlesungen  liber  Schleiermachers 
Dialektik  uud  Dogmatik." 


70  HOW  FEELING  FINDS  GOD 

led.  This  neutral,  undifferentiated  point  is 
feeling,  the  centre  of  gravity,  if  we  may  use 
the  term,  of  human  nature.  Intellect  acts  on 
feeling,  and  through  feeling  reaches  the  will. 
We  have  already  seen  that  feeling  may  in- 
fluence intellect;  but  in  this  case  intellect 
reacts  upon  feeling  before  feeling  acts  upon 
will.  In  feeling  we  have  the  undifferentiated 
man,  the  individual  as  such,  while  intellect 
and  will  represent  the  differentiated  man. 

We  can  now  understand  better  why  feeling 
is  the  only  medium  by  which  we  come  into 
contact  with  God.  Action  and  reaction  im- 
ply identity.  The  self  and  the  external 
world  are  one.  The  external  world  acts 
on  us  through  the  intellect,  and  we  react  on 
the  external  world  through  the  will.  Subject 
and  object  are  two  aspects  of  universal  being. 
The  undifferentiated  centre  of  being,  where 
subject  and  object  are  one,  the  absolute  unity 
of  being,  that  is  God.  Now  since  feeling  is 
the  undifferentiated  point  in  us,  it  is  in  feel- 
ing that  we  find  God  ;  it  is  through  feeling 
that  we  come  into  relation  with  his  attri- 
butes. God  cannot  be  reached  by  thought, 


SCHLEIERMACHEtfS  THEOLOGY  71 

for  thought  implies  differentiation,  and  has 
to  do  with  what  is  separate  from  us  and  over 
against  us.  Feeling  finds  God  —  yet  only  in 
part,  only  as  he  is  found  in  ourselves.  The 
intellect  is  always  over  against  the  object. 
Feeling,  finding  itself  one  with  the  object, 
cannot  state  the  object  in  terms  of  conscious- 
ness. In  the  attempt  to  reach  truth  intellect 
thus  gives  us  philosophy,  feeling  gives  us 
religion. 

Again,  as  God  is  absolute  form,  and  chaos 
is  absolute  matter,  both  God  and  chaos  are 
unthinkable,  and  therefore  can  never  be  fully 
known.  We  cannot  conceive  anything  so 
abstract  as  to  have  no  content,  anything  so 
concrete  as  to  have  no  form.  Therefore,  the 
two  extremes,  the  absolutely  universal  and 
the  absolutely  individual,  are  unthinkable  and 
unknowable. 

We  have  here  extreme  agnosticism  united 
with  profound  religious  feeling,  an  emotional 
religion  with  an  agnostic  philosophy.  This 
agnosticism  excludes  all  dogma,  and  the  the- 
ology of  Schleiermacher  consists  simply  in  the 
translation  of  various  dogmas  into  terms  of 


72      AGREEMENT  WITH  KANT  AND  SPINOZA 

absolute  dependence.  God  is  that  which  cor- 
responds to  and  makes  possible  the  sense  of 
dependence  ;  whatever  is  not  dependent  is  ex- 
'cluded  from  theology.  The  divine  eternity, 
for  instance,  is  in  itself  foreign  to  the  thought 
of  dependence,  or  rather  includes  more  than 
the  thought  of  dependence  ;  but  although  God 
is  eternal  outside  of  time,  yet  time  and  all 
temporal  relations  depend  upon  him,  and  thus 
the  divine  eternity  in  this  aspect  represents  a 
form  of  dependence.  The  goodness  of  God  is 
the  dependence  upon  him  of  the  moral  law. 
The  compassion  or  tenderness  of  God  may  not 
be  translated  into  terms  of  dependence  ;  it  is  a 
phrase  which,  according  to  Schleiermacher,  be- 
longs rather  to  homiletical  and  devotional  use 
than  to  theology. 

To  a  certain  extent  Schleiermacher  agrees 
with  both  Kant  and  Spinoza;  with  Kant  he 
recognizes  the  fact  that  we  are  powerless  to 
know  the  reality  of  the  outward  universe ;  with 
Spinoza  he  recognizes  the  absolute  unity  mani- 
fested in  the  universe  within  us  and  without. 
We  find  in  Schleiermacher  the  same  subjectiv- 
ity as  in  Kant,  and  both  recognize  the  ultimate 


SCHLEIERMACHEtfS  MYSTICISM  73 

foundation  of  things  as  being  in  feeling  and  not 
in  thought.  With  Schleiermacher,  however,  the 
positive  finds  expression  more  readily  than  the 
negative.  His  recognition  of  the  agnostic  prin- 
ciple is  after  all  cold ;  but  in  the  thought  of 
the  absolute  unity,  in  the  recognition  of  the 
world  as  being  in  God  and  dependent  upon 
God,  he  turns  toward  Spinoza  with  an  enthusi- 
asm of  sympathy  and  reverence. 

We  have  seen  that  in  Schleiermacher's  view 
no  divine  attributes  can  be  recognized  except 
those  which  grow  out  of  the  relation  of  abso- 
lute dependence  in  which  we  stand  toward  God. 
In  such  a  conception  of  religion  there  is  little 
room  for  forms  of  worship.  Little  praise  can 
be  offered,  no  direct  obedience  is  possible.  We 
have  only  on  the  one  hand  mystery,  as  in  the 
Unknowable  of  Spencer,  the  recognition  of  that 
which  cannot  be  formulated,  and  on  the  other 
hand  mysticism,  the  recognition  or  sense  of 
a  community  between  the  individual  life  and 
the  absolute  life.  This  sense  of  community 
between  the  human  and  the  divine  varies  in 
form.  It  may  be  of  the  sort  which  underlies 
all  profound,  positive  religion,  the  mysticism 


74  FIRST  GENERAL  CRITICISM 

of  Paul  when  he  says,  "In  him  we  live  and 
move  and  have  our  being," J  the  mysticism 
which  takes  form  in  the  doctrine  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.  This  is  the  normal  form  of  mysticism. 
Another  sort  results,  abnormal  and  fantastic, 
when  the  individual  life,  believing  itself  one 
with  the  absolute  life,  assumes  that  its  thoughts 
are  the  thoughts  of  God,  and  mistakes  the 
vagaries  of  the  imagination  for  divine  revela- 
tion. We  have  to  distinguish  also  between 
mysticism  and  pantheism.  In  pantheism  God 
is  lost  in  the  world,  and  is  no  longer  related 
to  it ;  he  has  no  reality  except  in  nature,  and 
ceases  to  be  self-related  and  to  have  conscious- 
ness. Now,  religion  implies  some  term  of  self. 
Therefore  no  religion  is  possible  in  real  pan- 
theism. When  men  say  that  they  are  panthe- 
ists they  usually  mean  that  they  are  mystics 
like  Paul.  For  this  mysticism  there  is  per- 
haps no  better  formula  than  Schleiermaeher's 
sense  of  absolute  dependence.2 

The  first  general  criticism  to  be  made  in  re- 
gard to  the  definition  of  Schleiermacher  is  that, 
while  it  is  apparently  psychological  and  sub- 

i  Acts  xvii.  28.  2  See  also  Chap.  X,  pp.  167-169. 


MERITS  OF  THE  DEFINITION  75 

jective,  it  really  is  dogmatic.  Schleiermacher 
gives  no  evidence  that  he  has  studied  religious 
life  in  its  various  manifestations,  and  arrived  at 
his  definition  after  careful  and  accurate  analy- 
sis. He  has  reasoned  to  feeling  and  not  from 
it.  Like  Spencer,  he  has  made  the  content  of 
his  religion,  his  definition  of  religion,  to  fit  his 
philosophy.  From  the  intellectual  side  the 
definitions  of  both  Spencer  and  Schleiermacher 
fit  their  philosophies  ;  their  thought  has  place 
for  the  kind  of  religion  which  they  recognize. 
But  if  they  had  begun  by  studying  the  reli- 
gions of  the  world,  the  different  ways  in  which 
the  religious  life  has  found  expression,  Spencer 
would  have  found  in  religion  more  than  the 
sense  of  mystery,  and  Schleiermacher  some- 
thing besides  the  sense  of  dependence. 

Yet  with  all  its  imperfections  the  definition 
of  Schleiermacher  has  had  a  great  influence. 
What  are  the  elements  of  its  power?  First,! 
all  that  is  positive  in  it  is  indisputably  true. 
Absolute  dependence  is  an  essential  of  all  true 
religion.  It  is  not  the  element  first  reached 
either  by  nations  or  by  the  individual  life  ;  but 
when  once  the  conception  of  religion  is  com- 


76  THE  DEFINITION  INCOMPLETE 

plete,  it  is  found  to  be  at  the  centre  and  heart 
2^  of  all.  In  the  second  place,  the  sense  of  de- 
pendence is  a  feeling  more  easily  awakened  and 
stimulated  in  the  religious  spirit  than  any 
other,  partly  because  it  is  independent  of  any 
argument,  and  partly  because  it  is  also  inde- 
3  pendent  of  any  mood.  Again,  one  religious 
feeling  when  excited  naturally  introduces 
others  by  the  power  of  association.  When, 
therefore,  we  recognize  the  truth  of  absolute 
dependence,  there  follows  also,  in  some  degree, 
the  fulness  of  the  other  feelings.  We  think 
that  all  have  arisen  out  of  the  first  feeling, 
whereas  in  reality  they  have  come  simply 
through  association  with  it.  Finally,  the  defi- 
nition of  Schleiermacher  rejects  in  all  that  has 
grown  up  about  religion  whatever  is  merely 
formal  and  has  no  true  relation  to  human  life. 
All  creeds  and  theories  which  are  without  this 
vital  relation  it  casts  aside  as  not  belonging  to 
the  reality  of  religion. 

It  is  possible,  however,  to  make  our  criticism 
of  this  definition  more  careful  and  profound. 
Religion  corresponds  to  the  whole  nature. 


ATTEMPTS  TO  COMPLEMENT  IT  77 

Now  in  its  completeness  the  reason  involves 
three  ideas,  truth,  goodness,  and  beauty,  and 
any  philosophy  of  religion  should  recognize 
all  three  elements.  But  as  Kant  recognized 
only  the  second,  excluding  the  possibility  of 
knowing  God,  so  Schleiermacher,  although  his 
aesthetic  sense  is  strong,  recognizes  only  the 
first  element,  the  absolute  unity.  The  lan- 
guage which  Goethe  puts  into  the  mouth  of 
Faust  when  he  is  seducing  Margaret  is  an  ex- 
pression of  Schleiermacher's  religion  : 

"  Wer  darf  ihn  nennen? 
Und  wer  bekennen : 
Ich  glaub'  ihn?  " 

Here  the  need  in  religion  of  the  recognition 
of  other  elements  than  feeling  is  plain  enough  ; 
the  recognition  of  the  moral  law  at  least  must 
be  added.  If  Faust  had  been  in  the  mood  of 
Kant,  and  had  recognized  the  absolute  as  good, 
the  result  might  have  been  different.  It  is 
not  enough  for  religion  to  tell  us  that  we  are 
absolutely  dependent ;  there  must  be  found 
in  it  the  elements  which  shall  give  an  impulse 
to  the  life. 

To  complement  the  definition   of   Schleier- 


78  ELEMENT  OF  FREEDOM  ADDED 

macher,  his  followers  have  added  to  it  the 
sense  of  freedom.  Freedom  and  dependence 
are  antithetical ;  each  needs  the  other.  Yet 
at  first  sight  each  seems  antagonistic  to  the 
other.  A  reconciliation  is  found  in  the  as- 
sumption that  freedom  grows  out  of  the  sense 
of  dependence.  According  to  Pfleiderer,1  con- 
sciousness of  ourselves  and  consciousness  of 
the  universe,  of  the  me  and  of  the  not  me,  these 
are  the  two  elements  in  complete  consciousness. 
They  are  antithetical  and  opposite,  self-con- 
sciousness demanding  freedom,  asserting  itself, 
the  world-consciousness  recognizing  limit,  ne- 
cessity. We  have,  then,  a  situation  which 
involves  the  worst  kind  of  servitude,  the  sense 
of  dependence  accompanied  by  the  conscious- 
ness in  the  soul  that  it  was  made  for  freedom. 
From  this  servitude  and  strife  some  escape 
must  at  least  be  sought.  It  cannot  be  found 
in  either  element ;  it  must  be  found  in  that 
on  which  both  elements  depend,  in  God. 

This  is  an  interesting  and  important  view 
of  religion.     It  is  another  expression  of  what 
Kant  has  said  in  the  eloquent  passage  on  the 
1  «  Religionsphilosophie,"  3d  ed.,  1893,  pp.  257,  258. 


ELEMENT  OF  FREEDOM  ADDED  79 

moral  law  and  the  heavens.1  In  form  the 
reconciliation  is  perfect.  There  is  no  compro- 
mise. Both  self  and  the  universe  are  depend- 
ent upon  God;  both  are  divinely  appointed. 
The  universe  is  the  sphere  within  which  free- 
dom is  to  be  exercised  and  the  aim  of  self 
worked  out.  The  world,  instead  of  being  the 
enemy  of  man's  freedom,  becomes  the  servant 
of  his  freedom.  At  first  I  feel  myself  in 
collision  with  the  world  about  me  ;  I  am  but 
a  point  in  it ;  I  find  myself  constantly  thwarted : 
but  I  am  God's  creature,  and  this  is  God's 
world  ;  I  am  sent  to  accomplish  certain  ends  ; 
the  difficulties  which  I  must  overcome,  them- 
selves a  part  of  God's  world  as  I  am  part,  must 
be  the  very  things  by  which  I  am  to  develop 
my  highest  life  and  so  work  out  the  ends 
which  I  am  to  accomplish.  Or  suppose  that 
a  servant  tries  to  do  his  duty  among  other 
servants  who  shirk  their  duty  and  persecute 
the  first  servant ;  the  first  servant  will  chafe 
at  first,  but  when  he  considers  how  dependent 
all  are  upon  the  master,  he  is  lifted  above  all 
anxiety  to  satisfy  the  others.  In  the  same 
1 "  Critique  of  Practical  Reason,"  Pt.  II,  Conclusion. 


80  THIS  COMPLEMENT  NOT  REAL 

way  the  fear  of  breaking  the  moral  law  lifts 
one  above  all  other  fears.  The  sense  of  de- 
pendence upon  God  thus  frees  men  from  the 
sense  of  dependence  upon  their  environment.1 
All  this  is  satisfactory  so  far  as  it  goes.  Yet 
we  do  not  find  in  these  statements  a  real  com- 
plement to  the  definition  of  Schleiermacher. 
The  sense  of  freedom  does  not  supply  what  is 
lacking  in  the  definition  which  finds  religion 
in  the  sense  of  absolute  dependence  ;  nor  can 
it  be  regarded  as  a  fundamental  element  in 
any  definition  of  religion.  If  we  were  so  to 
regard  it,  we  should  be  attempting,  in  the  first 
place,  to  put  that  which  is  secondary  on  the 
same  plane  with  that  which  is  primary.  For 
if  we  grant  that  freedom  is  the  outgrowth,  the 
result,  of  dependence,  we  have  obviously  pri- 
mary and  secondary  elements,  and  to  place 
these  two  elements  on  the  same  plane  is  not 
properly  to  define.  Further,  to  consider  the 
sense  of  freedom  a  fundamental  element  of 
religion,  is  to  put  the  subjective  in  the  place 
of  the  objective.  Religion  is  in  one  way  or 

1  See  also  Biedermann  (Alois  Emanuel),    "  Christliche 
Dogmatik,"  2d  ed.,  2  vols.,  1884-1885. 


FREEDOM  A  RESULT  OF  RELIGION  81 

another  a  relation  between  man  and  some  power 
outside  of  man,  and  nothing  can  be  a  funda- 
mental element  of  religion  which  does  not  in- 
volve this  relation.  The  sense  of  dependence 
does  involve  it ;  but  the  sense  of  freedom 
touches  nothing  outside  of  ourselves,  it  in- 
volves only  a  sort  of  self-relation.  Again, 
the  sense  of  freedom  is  not  real,  but  formal. 
Of  course,  what  we  mean  by  freedom  in  this 
connection  is  not  freedom  of  the  will,  but  \ 
freedom  of  development.  Nothing  is  more  1 
formal  than  such  freedom,  and  nothing  may 
be  more  worthless  than  what  is  merely  formal. 
Freedom  is  worthy  or  not,  according  to  the 
use  which  is  made  of  it ;  it  is  sought,  not 
for  itself,  but  for  that  which  it  gives  one  the 
power  to  do.  If  we  compare  the  freedom  of 
the  drunkard  who  refuses  to  take  the  pledge 
because  he  "  will  not  sign  away  his  liberty " 
with  the  freedom  which  Luther  desired,  we  see 
how  entirely  formal  the  thought  of  freedom  is. 
No,  the  sense  of  freedom  is  a  resultant  of  re- 
ligion. To  include  it  among  the  fundamental 
elements  of  religion  is  a  mistake.  How,  then,  l 
shall  we  complement  the  definition  of  Schleier- 


82  THE  REAL   COMPLEMENT 

macher?  Religion  is  more  than  the  sense  of 
dependence,  but  to  add  the  sense  of  freedom 
is  a  mechanical  suggestion  only.  Schleier- 
macher's  definition  is  true  in  so  far  as  it  insists 
upon  one  element  in  religion,  and  that  the 
most  profound  and  important.  To  comple- 
ment it  we  must  seek  the  other  elements  which 
stand  in  the  same  relation  to  religion.  In  the 
thought  of  dependence  we  have  the  recogni- 
tion of  absolute  unity,  of  universal  truth  ;  but 
goodness  and  beauty  are  the  other  ideas  of 
the  reason,  and  Schleiermacher's  definition  is 
lacking  in  that  it  recognizes  only  unity,  and 
provides  no  place  for  beauty  and  goodness. ' 
Yet  it  is  due  largely  to  the  recognition  of 
goodness  and  beauty  that  we  have  worship. 
The  worship  which  comes  from  the  sense  of 
dependence  alone  is  much  like  that  found  in 
the  Upanishads,  the  expression  only  of  the  idea 
that  God  is  the  all,  and  that  all  depends  upon 
him.  Not  only  is  such  worship  in  itself 
limited,  but  the  controlling  force  of  religion 
in  life  is  lessened.  In  the  sense  of  dependence 
we  find  no  impulse  to  largeness  and  fulness 
of  life  ;  the  religion  which  it  expresses  is  one 


CERTAIN  ASSUMPTIONS  EXAMINED  83 

of  withdrawal  and  absorption  rather  than  of 
self -manifestation. 

The  thought  of  Schleiermacher  involves 
certain  assumptions  not  infrequently  made. 
The  first  is  that  religion  is  primarily  a  rela- 
tion to  the  infinite.1  This  is  in  a  way  true. 
The  conscious  recognition,  however,  of  the 
infinite  as  the  object  of  religion  comes  late ; 
religion  does  not  begin  with  it.  The  savage 
first  recognizes  his  divinity  as  stronger  than 
himself,  and  what  he  seeks  is  enough  strength 
to  help  him  in  his  needs  ;  then  the  thoughts 
of  goodness  and  beauty  lead  the  worshipper 
to  a  higher  plane,  and  last  of  all  comes  the 
realization  of  the  infinite.  Now,  if  we  ap- 
proach this  realization  through  previous  con- 
ceptions of  truth  and  goodness  and  beauty, 
we  can  carry  into  our  thought  of  the  infinite 
some  content ;  but  if  we  start  with  the  thought 
of  the  infinite,  our  conception  remains  a  form, 
abstract  and  empty,  without  content. 

I  said  just  now  that  religion  does  not  begin 
with  a  recognition  of  the  infinite.  There  is, 

1  Cf.  F.  MaxMiiller,  "  Hibbert  Lectures,"  1878,  Lecture  1, 
pp.  11-26. 


84  CERTAIN  ASSUMPTIONS  EXAMINED 

however,  in  the  trust  or  fear  of  the  early  re-  , 
ligions  an  element  which  separates  this  trust  \ 
or  fear  from  ordinary  trust  and  fear.  We 
may  find  that  this  element  is  a  sense  of  the 
infinite,  the  recognition  of  a  power  which  is 
the  negative  of  the  finite.  If  so,  then  we  may 
say  that  the  sense  of  relation  to  the  infinite 
is  found  at  the  two  extremes  of  religion,  its 
beginning  and  its  end.  We  see  this  in  the 
development  of  Brahmanism,  where  the  early 
trust  or  fear  changes  until  at  last  we  have 
the  thought  of  the  absolute,  and  nothing  more. 
At  these  extremes  the  relation  is  found,  al- 
though of  a  kind  which  we  can  hardly  recog- 
nize as  religion ;  but  if  the  idea  of  relation 
to  the  infinite  were  an  essential  element  in 
religion,  we  should  find  it  at  all  stages  of 
religious  development. 

The  other  assumption  involved  in  Schleier- 
macher's  thought  is  that  the  infinite  is  pure 
abstraction,  the  negation  of  all  content.  We 
have  just  seen  that  this  is  the  conception  which 
results  if  we  begin  with  the  thought  of  the 
infinite.  But  we  have  also  seen  that  if  we 
approach  the  infinite  from  the  side  of  truth 


THE  INFINITE  NOT  ABSTRACTION  85 

and  goodness  and  beauty,  we  carry  into  the 
conception  of  the  infinite  the  content  of  these 
ideas  of  the  reason.  We  find  thus  in  the 
infinite,  instead  of  pure  abstraction,  the  abso- 
lutely concrete. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   SECOND    DEFINITION    OF    RELIGION  :    THE 
FEELING     TOWARD    THE     SUPERNATURAL  — 
DEFINITION    OF    THE    SUPERNATURAL  —  SU- 
PERSTITION—  THE    SUPERNATURAL    CONSID- 
ERED AS  NEGATIVE 

WE  reached  as  our  first  definition  of  religion, 
the  most  abstract  possible,  the  statement  that 
religion  is  feeling.1  To  reach  our  next  defini- 
tion we  must  ask,  What  kind  of  feeling?  The 
answer  will  necessarily  be  unsatisfactory ;  for 
this  second  definition,  like  the  first,  must  be 
inclusive,  covering  nothing  that  is  not  found  in 
the  very  lowest  forms  of  religion. 

What,  then,  is  the  sort  of  feeling  which  we 
call  religion?  We  are  using  the  term  "  religion  " 
now  in  its  widest  sense,  including  superstition. 
How  are  we  to  define  feeling  so  that  another 
shall  know  what  we  mean  ?  Feeling  is  subjec- 
tive. A  person  who  has  had  no  experience  of 
i  Page  61. 


FEELING   TOWARD   THE  SUPERNATURAL      87 

a  feeling  cannot  understand  it  through  an- 
other's description;  we  have  to  refer  to  the 
object  toward  which  the  feeling  is  directed. 
We  say,  for  instance,  that  a  man  is  purse- 
proud;  there  is  a  qualitative  distinction  be- 
tween such  pride  and  family  pride.  Here  we 
have  had  to  call  the  intellect  to  our  help,  to 
provide  the  trellis  for  the  vine ;  thought  has 
been  necessary  to  bring  feeling  to  higher  con- 
sciousness. So  in  religion  feeling  depends  for 
its  development  upon  the  intellect. 

We  shall  be  helped  in  forming  our  second 
definition  of  religion  if  we  look  at  the  result 
reached  by  the  savage.  The  religious  feeling 
of  the  savage  is  aroused  by  some  object  which 
has  influenced  his  life  for  good  or  for  evil  with- 
out the  medium  of  the  physical  organs  through 
which  such  influence  is  ordinarily  exercised, 
that  is,  by  spirits  of  the  dead,  or  by  a  plant  or 
a  stick  or  a  stone,  which,  without  any  external, 
physical  contact,  but  simply  by  good  will  or  ill 
will,  have  made  themselves  felt  in  his  life. 
The"  action  of  such  objects  he  considers  divine 
or  magical.  They  produce  an  effect  without 
resort  to  the  means  by  which  the  will  ordina- 


88  SECOND  DEFINITION  OF  RELIGION 

rily  manifests  itself.  Now  this  production  of 
an  effect  apart  from  the  means  usually  em- 
ployed is  what  we  commonly  call  supernatural 
as  distinguished  from  natural. 

Let  us  take,  then,  as  our  second  definition  of 
religion,  THE  FEELING  TOWARD  THE  SUPER- 
NATURAL.1 I  have  said  that  this  definition  is 
inclusive.  If  we  think  of  the  various  forms 
in  which  religion  is  found,  we  see  that  all  in- 
volve some  reference  to  something  supernatural, 
using  the  term  "supernatural"  in  its  broadest 
and  vaguest  sense.  The  Buddhist  recognizes 
among  a  number  of  divinities  no  object  of 
supreme  worship;  but  his  whole  life  is  con- 
trolled by  the  thought  of  what  is  to  happen 
after  death.  In  the  Hebrew  religion  we  have 
the  barest,  most  abstract  thought  of  life  after 
death,  but  there  is  the  recognition  of  Yahweh 
as  the  controlling  power  in  this  life,  an  intense 
impression  of  a  living,  divine  power.  From 
our  own  present  point  of  view,  religion  is  not 
only  a  belief  in  the  supernatural,  but  a  feeling 
toward  it,  and  this  feeling  affects  the  life 

1  Cf.  Count  Goblet  d'Alviella,  "  Hibbert  Lectures,"  1891, 
p.  47. 


NATURAL  AND  SUPERNATURAL  89 

equally  with  belief.  Besides  its  inclusiveness, 
our  definition  has  this  advantage,  that  it  offers 
room  for  development.  We  can  rise  from  the 
lowest  type  with  which  we  begin  to  higher 
types,  without  abandoning  or  changing  the 
original  form  of  definition.  For  our  feeling 
toward  the  supernatural  will  vary  as  our 
thought  of  the  supernatural  varies. 

What  do  we  mean,  however,  by  supernat- 
ural? What  do  we  mean  by  natural?  The 
term  "nature"  is  of  course  used  in  many 
senses,  and  a  definition  which  should  include 
all  would  hardly  be  serviceable  to  us  in  this 
connection.  What  we  here  mean  by  nature  is 
the  universe  considered  as  a  composite  whole,] 
and  the  supernatural  is  that  which  stands  in/ 
antithesis  to  this  composite  whole.  Now  there 
are  two  aspects  under  which  we  may  view  a 
composite  whole.  First,  we  may  think  of  it  as 
regards  the  relation  of  the  parts  to  one  another. 
If  the  whole  is  more  than  a  mere  aggregate, 
then  the  parts  have  a  certain  orderly,  definite 
relation  one  to  another.  Anything  which  in- 
terferes with  this  usual  relation  of  the  parts  to 
one  another  may  then  be  called  supernatural ; 


90  NATURAL  AND  SUPERNATURAL 

the  supernatural  will  be  the  disturbing  influ- 
ence. But,  secondly,  the  term  "composite 
whole,"  in  which  we  have  unity  of  combination, 
may  also  involve  a  non-composite  whole  not 
made  up  of  elements  brought  together ;  a 
whole,  that  is,  forming  a  unity  in  and  through 
which  all  these  elements  of  the  composite  whole 
have  their  being,  and  which  manifests  itself 
through  them  all.  We  may  say,  for  example, 
that  in  one  sense  space  is  an  aggregate  of  ex- 
tensions ;  but  these  extensions  would  have  no 
significance  if  it  were  not  for  space  as  a  whole  ; 
space  is  that  in  which  all  spaces  have  their 
being.  This,  however,  is  an  imperfect  illustra- 
tion. The  one  perfect  illustration  is  the  human 
mind.  From  one  point  of  view  our  conscious- 
ness would  seem  to  be  made  up  of  various 
thoughts  and  feelings.  In  another  aspect  all 
these  thoughts  and  feelings,  these  various  ele- 
ments of  consciousness,  have  no  meaning  with- 
out the  unity  of  consciousness  in  and  through 
which  they  exist,  and  which  in  turn  manifests 
itself  through  them.  The  human  mind  is  thus 
a  unity  manifesting  itself  in  and  through 
diversity. 


NATURAL  AND  SUPERNATURAL  91 

Spinoza's  use  of  the  term  "  nature  "  helps  to 
make  this  clear.  He  speaks  of  the  natura  na- 
turata,  the  body  or  effect  of  the  natura  natu- 
rans,  the  unity  which  manifests  itself  through 
all  things.  The  natura  naturata  of  Spinoza 
corresponds  to  that  which  we  here  call  natu- 
ral, his  natura  naturans  to  what  we  call  super- 
natural. Our  use  of  the  term  "nature"  is  only 
one  of  several  which  are  possible,  but  although 
it  is  used  in  other  senses,  the  sense  in  which 
we  are  here  to  understand  it  is  not  forced, 
but  is  the  more  usual  sense.  When,  for  in- 
stance, we  speak  of  the  natural  sciences,  we 
mean  those  sciences  which  refer  to  the  rela- 
tions which  natural  objects  bear  to  one  an- 
other ;  we  do  not  speak  of  psychology  as  a 
natural  science,  but  we  do  so  speak  of  min- 
eralogy. In  theology  also  the  "natural  man" 
is  he  who  conceives  that  life  consists  in  the 
abundance  of  the  things  which  he  possesses  ; 
that  is,  he  lives  in  the  nature  which  we  have 
described  as  composite  ;  in  the  state  of  grace 
he  has  been  taken  out  of  this  composite  life 
and  brought  into  relation  with  the  absolute 
life.  The  poetic  use  does  indeed  more  nearly 


92  NATURAL  AND  SUPERNATURAL 

approach  the  natura  naturans  of  Spinoza ; 
here  nature  is  personified.  Ordinarily,  how- 
ever, as  I  have  said,  the  term  "nature"  desig- 
nates the  universe  considered  as  a  composite 
whole. 

We  saw  that  in  antithesis  to  nature  viewed 
as  a  composite  whole,  whose  elements  stood 
in  orderly  relation  to  one  another,  the  super- 
natural was  that  which  interfered  with  the 
usual  relations  of  the  parts,  the  disturbing 
influence.  When,  however,  nature  is  viewed 
as  a  composite  whole  which  exists  in  and 
through  a  non-composite  unity,  then  the  su- 
pernatural is  this  non-composite  unity.  The 
thought  of  the  supernatural  does  not  at  all  of 
necessity  imply  a  conception  of  spiritual  be- 
ings. In  Buddhism  we  have  no  absolute 
divinity,  no  god  ;  the  religion  is  in  a  most 
profound  sense  atheistic.  Yet  it  is  a  religion 
because  it  is  a  feeling  toward  the  supernatural. 
With  the  thought  of  life  as  a  part  of  nature, 
there  is  constant  relation  to  that  which  may 
or  may  not  come  after  death,  and  thus  the 
supernatural,  that  which  is  beyond  nature,  is 
a  controlling  power  in  atheistic  Buddhism. 


TWO  KINDS  OF  RELIGION  SUGGESTED        93 

No,  in  itself  the  supernatural  is  simply  a 
negative  term.  It  does  not  necessarily  imply 
even  superiority.  As  the  term  "  superfluity  " 
merely  designates  that  which  is  in  excess,  with- 
out implying  that  the  excess  is  different  in 
quality  from  that  which  was  enough  to  fill  the 
measure,  so  "  supernatural "  means  primarily 
only  something  which  we  do  not  include  in 
the  term  "nature"  ;  only  its  negative  relation 
to  the  natural  is  implied.  Experience,  how- 
ever, adds  a  content  to  terms  which  at  the 
outset  are  only  negative.  The  term  "inor- 
ganic," for  example,  depends  at  first  for  its 
significance  upon  the  term  "organic,"  and  is 
simply  something  which  has  no  organs  ;  but 
as  a  matter  of  fact  it  does  have  for  us  a  posi- 
tive, definite  meaning,  because  we  have  learned 
by  experience  what  sort  of  things  belong  to 
the  inorganic  world.  In  the  same  way  we 
shall  find,  as  we  proceed,  that  we  can  give  to 
the  term  "supernatural"  a  positive  content. 
Two  kinds  of  religion,  then,  are  suggested 
by  our  definition,  the  feeling  toward  the 
supernatural  as  negative,  and  the  feeling 
toward  the  supernatural  as  positive. 


94  SUPERNATURAL  AS  NEGATIVE 

/ 

The  thinnest  form  of  the  supernatural  is 
that  from  which  all  definite  content  is  ex- 
cluded, and  there  is  found  only  the  vague 
sense  of  the  supernatural.  Suppose  that  a 
person  wakes  in  the  night  and  puts  his  hand 
upon  a  dead  body,  something  unmistakably 
dead.  He  is  startled;  he  experiences  a  sensa- 
tion of  the  unusual ;  he  may  be  afraid.  Yet 
there  is  nothing  to  fear.  What,  then,  is  the 
nature  of  his  feeling?  It  is  the  sense  of  the 
supernatural.  So  far  as  the  individual  is  con- 
cerned, death  is  the  breaking  up  of  the  natural 
world.  The  contact  with  the  dead  body 
brings  us  abruptly  into  definite  touch  with 
something  which  implies  the  nothingness  of 
the  visible,  natural  world.  Similarly,  in  look- 
ing over  a  precipice,  we  are  moved,  not  so 
much  by  the  fear  of  falling,  as  by  the  sense  of 
a  vastness  which  is  alien  to  us.  We  overcome 
this  feeling  after  a  little  ;  and  in  the  same  way 
those  who  are  accustomed  to  contact  with  the 
dead  —  surgeons,  undertakers,  and  others  — 
lose  the  sense  of  fear.  It  is  the  feeling  that 
we  are  touching  the  limit  of  the  natural,  and 
are  as  it  were  chilled  by  the  breath  of  the 


SUPERNATURAL  AS  NEGATIVE  95 

supernatural,  which   disturbs   us;    as   soon   as 
the  experience   becomes   familiar,   the  feeling 


Some  experience  a  similar  feeling  when  in 
the  dark.1  An  easy  method  of  explaining  this 
fear,  adopted  of  late,  is  to  throw  the  responsi- 
bility back  upon  our  savage  ancestors.  It  is 
said  that  they  were  timid  in  the  dark  because 
they  were  then  liable  to  be  attacked,  and 
that  we  inherit  an  organic  reminiscence.  This 
theory,  however,  is  hardly  sufficient.  Our 
ancestors  were  quite  as  likely  to  be  attacking 
as  they  were  to  be  attacked,  and  we  cannot 
think  that  they  were  a  timid  set.  No,  it  is 
simply  that  in  the  darkness  the  world  familiar 
to  us  is  swept  away.  Our  world  is  made  up 
primarily  of  color;  that  is  the  aspect  under 
which  it  usually  presents  itself  to  us.  In 
the  darkness  this  is  gone,  and  a  strange  world 
is  about  us,  the  negation  of  our  familiar  world. 
As  in  the  contact  with  death,  the  realization 
that  we  had  reached  the  limit  of  our  familiar 
world  chilled  us,  so  now  we  are  again  chilled 

*See  Charles  Lamb,  "Essays  of  Elia,"  "Witches  and 
other  Night  Fears." 


96  SUPERSTITION  AND  RELIGION 

as  the  familiar  world  is  blotted  out  by  the 
darkness.  It  is  the  negation  of  the  natural, 
the  sense  of  the  supernatural  in  this  first, 
primary  meaning  of  it  which  has  aroused  fear. 
We  have  seen  already  how  such  a  fear  creates 
an  object  for  itself  in  the  thought  of  a  person 
under  the  bed  or  behind  the  door;  the  un- 
canny feeling  needs  an  object  and  so  creates 
one ;  the  object  does  not  create  the  feeling, 
but  the  feeling  the  object. 

Superstition  stands  in  a  curious  relation  to 
religion.  In  all  accounts  of  all  forms  of 
religion  superstitions  have  their  place.  Yet 
when  we  speak  otherwise  than  historically, 
we  consider  superstition  as  something  over 
against  religion.  We  call  the  highest  forms 
of  savage  worship  superstition,  and  we  speak 
of  that  which  we  criticise  in  present  forms  of 
worship  as  superstition.  From  one  point  of 
view  superstition  is  opposed  to  religion;  from 
another  it  is  related  to  it.  They  must  have 
something  in  common,  yet  with  a  great  differ- 
ence. Superstition  is  the  feeling  toward  the  , 
supernatural  as  negative,  religion  the  feeling 
toward  the  supernatural  as  positive. 


FORMS  OF  NEGATIVITY  97 

We  have  here  a  justification  of  our  second 
definition  of  religion  as  a  feeling  toward  the 
supernatural.  For  with  any  other  definition 
we  should  have  difficulty  in  finding  room  for 
superstition;  the  two  pass  into  each  other 
so  easily,  and  yet  are  so  distinct,  that  it  is 
difficult  to  include  them  properly  in  a  single 
definition.  True  religion  is  antithetical  to 
superstition,  and  an  antithetical  relation  im- 
plies union,  a  relation  to  something  held  in 
common.  This  union  exists  for  superstition 
and  religion  in  that  each  is  a  feeling  toward 
the  supernatural. 

There  are  three  forms  under  which  the 
supernatural  considered  as  negative  may  be 
recognized :  active  negativity,  negativity  of 
neutrality,  and  negativity  of  limitation.  The 
most  striking  of  these  is  active  negativity. 
It  is  a  destructive  force,  invading  the  natural 
and  making  war  upon  it.  It  is  this  form 
which  we  find  more  marked  in  the  lowest 
religions.  The  savage  lives  almost  wholly 
in  nature.  So  great  is  his  confidence  in  it 
that  he  thinks  it  might  continue  indefinitely 
if  it  were  not  that  the  supernatural  makes 


98  ACTIVE  NEGATIVITY 

war  upon  it.  Whereas  in  the  higher  forms  of 
religion  man's  trust  is  in  the  supernatural, 
and  the  natural  world  is  the  disturbing  ele- 
ment, here  the  trust  is  in  the  natural  world, 
and  it  is  the  supernatural  which  invades. 
Disease  and  death  are  regarded  as  such  in- 
vasions of  spiritual  forces,  interfering  with 
nature.  In  the  religion  of  the  Avesta,  the 
demon  most  hated  is  he  who  has  possession 
of  the  bodies  of  the  dead,  the  personification 
of  dissolution  with  all  its  attendant  horrors. 
To  overcome  this  invading  force  of  the  super- 
natural, resort  is  had  to  magic  and  spells 
and  charms.  We  find,  therefore,  that  in  a 
certain  sense  Miiller's  definition  of  religion 
as  "  the  relation  to  the  infinite "  is  true  in 
the  extreme  types  of  religion.  It  is  true, 
at  one  extreme,  in  the  ultimate  forms  of 
Brahmanism,  and  it  is  also  true  in  the  lowest 
forms  of  religion  if  we  consider  the  super- 
natural element  which  invades  the  natural 
world  as  the  infinite  negatively  interpreted, 
the  anti-finite.  It  is  of  course  an  infinite 
as  formless  as  the  savage's  thought  of  the 
ocean.  It  is  as  though  he  were  to  build  his 


ACTIVE  NEGATIVITY  99 

hut  on  the  shore  and  establish  his  home 
there,  and  then  there  were  to  come  some  day 
a  great  tide,  higher  than  usual,  which  should 
sweep  everything  away. 

The  devil  is  the  ideal  of  active  negativity.  \ 
We  may  say  that  he  is  the  god   of   supersti- 
tion.    In  the  words  which  Goethe   puts   into 
the    mouth    of    Mephistopheles,    he    is    "the 
spirit   that   always   denies."      Emerson,  in   an 
unpublished  lecture,  speaking  of  the  negativ- 
ity of  the  devil,  said  that  if  a  profane  man 
wished  to   strengthen   an   affirmation    he    did/ 
so  by  referring  to  God,  "  It  is  so,  by  God,"\   1 
whereas  a  negative  statement  was  referred  to; 
the  devil,  "  The  devil  it  is  !  " 

"  When  the  devil  was  sick  and  like  to  die, 

The  devil  a  monk  would  be ; 
But  when  the  devil  got  well  again, 
The  devil  a  monk  was  he."  l 

Can  religion  recognize  this  negativity?  Yes, 
it  represents  a  real  relation,  a  great  truth. 
The  supernatural  does  stand  in  a  negative 
relation  to  many  parts  of  life.  Even  in  its 
highest  form  there  is  something  of  this  nega- 

1  Francis  Rabelais,  "  Works,"  Bk.  IV,  Ch.  XXIV. 


100  MEN'S  HATRED  OF  GOD 

tive  relation.  For  in  its  highest  form  it 
is  the  sense  of  our  ideals,  and  our  ideals  are 
always  making  war  upon  the  natural,  the 
existing  order.  "Beware  when  the  great  God 
lets  loose  a  thinker  on  this  planet,"  says  Em- 
erson.1 A  thinker  introduces  an  ideal,  and 
an  ideal  breaks  up  one's  relations  to  the 
world  about  him.  Take  the  ideal  of  abso- 
lute freedom.  What  is  more  positive?  Yet 
what  a  disturbing  power  this  positive  ideal 
may  be,  witness  our  civil  war  !  But  when 
a  man  is  doing  wrong,  we  have  again  a 
disturbing  force.  What  is  the  difference? 
When  a  positive  negative  acts,  it  negates  a 
negation,  and  an  affirmative  is  the  result. 
Slavery  is  negative ;  the  ideal  of  freedom, 
negating  this  negative,  sets  the  slave  at  lib- 
erty, and  we  have  an  affirmative.  The  simple 
negative,  on  the  other  hand,  results  only  in 
a  negation. 

Does   man   ever  hate   God?     The   questio 
has   often   been   asked,  and  many  theologia 
have  said  that  he  does  not  when  God  is  seen 
as  he  really  is.     Yet  we  must  say  that  a  man 
1  "Essays,"  First  Series,  "Circles." 


MEN'S  HATRED   OF  GOD  101 

may  see  God  as  lie  really  is,  and  yet  hate 
him,  so  long  as  he  sees  him  only  in  negative 
relation  to  himself.  Abstractly  it  may  not 
be  possible  for  us  to  have  any  feeling  of 
hatred  toward  God;  but  when  he  is  mani- 
fested in  such  a  way  as  to  break  up  our 
lives,  when  collisions  come  between  the  natu- 
ral life  and  the  life  led  in  the  thought  of 
God,  then  there  enters  the  possibility  of 
hatred.  It  was  thus  that  people  asked  Jesus 
to  leave  them,1  and  that  Paul  and  Silas  were 
accused  by  the  men  whose  gains  they  had 
interfered  with.2  Only  when  we  come  to 
understand  our  relation  to  God  in  its  positive 
aspect  can  we  fully  love  him.  God  is  called 
a  "consuming  fire,"  a  "jealous  God."  He  is 
jealous  in  the  sense  in  which  every  ideal  is 
jealous  of  the  actual,  demanding  absolute 
devotion. 

Shall  we  call  it  superstition  when  we  hate 
God  because  he  requires  of  us  something 
which  we  are  unwilling  to  do?  There  are 
those  who  can  see  in  the  largest  manifestation 

1  Matt.  viii.  34.    Also  Luke  v.  8. 

2  Acts  xvi. 


102  NEUTRAL  NEGATIVITY 

of  love  and  right  only  that  which  opposes 
them;  shall  we  call  this  superstition?  Yes, 
it  is  a  superstitious  feeling.  The  facts  of 
religion  have  been  translated  into  the  lan- 
guage of  superstition.  The  fear  and  dread 
of  the  ideal  involve  an  attitude  of  supersti- 
tion in  regard  to  it.  "The  fear  of  the  Lord 
is  the  beginning  of  wisdom."  Yes,  says 
Hegel,  but  it  is  not  the  end  of  wisdom. 

The  second  form  under  which  we  recognize 
the  supernatural  regarded  as  negative  is  the 
negative  of  neutrality.  Here  we  use  the 
term  "negative"  just  as  we  do  ordinarily  in 
common  speech.  We  say  of  a  man  that  he 
has  a  negative  character  when  we  mean  that 
he  is  without  any  positive  or  marked  char- 
acteristics, and  is  simply  not  this  and  not 
that,  etc.  We  speak  in  the  same  way  of 
negative  colors.  When  in  this  sense  we 
apply  the  term  "  negative  "  to  the  divinity,  we 
do  not  mean  that  he  may  not  have  interests 
of  his  own,  but  that,  so  far  as  human  inter- 
ests are  concerned,  he  has  no  desire  either 
to  harm  or  to  bless,  he  cares  nothing  about 
them.  Our  effort,  then,  is  to  make  him 


NEUTRAL  NEGATIVITY  103 

care.  He  has  wants  of  his  own,  and  to  win 
him  to  our  support  we  will  appeal  to  those 
wants.  If  he  should  be  opposed  to  us,  we 
should  try  in  the  same  way  to  remove  his 
hostility;  if  he  should  be  uncertain,  freaky, 
we  should  use  the  same  means  to  win  him  to 
a  stable  friendliness.  It  is  as  though  we  had 
to  deal  with  a  venal  judge,  who  did  not  care 
for  us,  but  did  care  for  money,  and  we  could 
by  some  bribe  sue  for  his  interest  in  our  case. 
So  the  Vedic  worshippers  offer  each  his  soma 
juice  to  the  divinity,  and  he  whose  offering  is 
accepted  has  gained  the  favor  of  the  divinity. 
So  in  all  the  history  of  the  world  we  find  war- 
ring elements,  striving  each  by  prayer  or  offer- 
ing to  win  the  help  of  the  supernatural  powers, 
or,  as  we  say,  to  "get  the  Lord  upon  their 
side."  From  the  highest  point  of  view,  the 
divinity  is  conceived  as  still  having  interests 
and  needs  of  his  own ;  but  our  endeavor  is, 
not  to  win  him  over  to  our  desires,  but  to 
make  our  desires  one  with  his.  We  ask,  not 
"  Is  the  Lord  upon  our  side  ? "  but  "  Are  we 
upon  the  Lord's  side?"  This  is  the  differ- 
ence between  such  a  prayer  as  that  of  Jacob 


104  NEGATIVITY  OF  LIMITATION 

at  Bethel l  and  the  prayer  of  Jesus  in  the 
garden  of  Gethsemane.2 

As  we  follow  the  history  of  religion,  we  see 
to  what  an  extent  religious  worship  has  been 
of  the  superstitious  kind  which  tries  to  bribe 
the  divinity.  Yet  we  should  make  a  great 
mistake  if  we  assumed  that  there  was  in  the 
religion  which  thus  expressed  itself  no  higher 
element  than  the  desire  to  win  favor  and 
support  for  selfish  ends.  A  child,  on  seeing 
his  father,  will  run  and  thrust  his  hand  into 
the  father's  pocket  to  see  what  gift  there  is 
for  him,  but  we  do  not,  therefore,  doubt  the 
child's  love  for  his  father. 

We  have  in  the  third  place  a  superstition 
which  is  fortuitous,  selective,  a  negativity  of 
limitation.  Certain  things  are  recognized  as 
sacred:  certain  animals,  certain  places,  certain 
days.  There  are  spots  of  sacredness ;  men 
say,  "  Lo  here  !  "  or  "  Lo  there  !  "  True  reli- 
gion finds  the  divine  presence  everywhere ; 
not  a  sparrow  shall  "  fall  on  the  ground  with- 
out your  Father."3  Not  that  special  times 
and  places  may  not  be  observed,  but  there 
1  Gen.  xxviii.  20-22.  2  Matt.  xxvi.  36-46.  3  Matt.  x.  29. 


TRUTH  IN  SUPERSTITION  105 

are  in  all  such,  observances  a  right  use  and 
a  wrong  use.  The  day  or  the  place  may  be 
sacred  in  either  of  two  senses ;  it  may  be  set 
apart  for  religious  and  moral  opportunities, 
or  it  may  be  considered  sacred  in  itself;  I 
may  go  to  church  feeling  that  I  have  now  to 
my  credit  one  good  deed  more,  or  I  may  go 
because  I  recognize  another  opportunity  for 
higher  thought  and  nearer  relation  with  God. 
The  test  of  the  observance  is  whether  the 
day  or  the  thing  set  apart  casts  a  shadow  on 
other  days  and  other  things,  or  brightens 
them  ;  whether  it  tends  to  make  the  rest  of 
life  profane,  or  to  make  all  life  more  sacred. 
We  must  remember,  however,  that  it  is  better 
to  have  one  day  holy  than  to  have  no  day  at 
all  holy.  If  one  day  is  holy,  the  divine 
power  has  at  least  so  much  foothold  in  the 
world,  a  beginning  from  which  to  spread. 

We  have  also  to  remember  that  what,  from 
a  higher  point  of  view,  appears  to  be  super- 
stition may  be  the  husk  of  true  religion. 
The  world  cannot  reach  absolute  truth  at  a 
bound  ;  it  can  only  take  that  which  for  the 
time  being  is  within  its  reach.  We  look 


106  SUPERSTITION  AS  A  SURVIVAL 

back  to  the  Greek  myth,  and  think  it  a 
profanation  to  conceive  the  gods  in  human 
form ;  but  if  we  look  at  it  from  the  point 
of  view  of  those  who  in  earlier  times  had 
represented  the  divine  in  the  form  of  a  beast 
or  a  stone,  the  conception  of  the  divine  in 
human  form  marks  a  great  advance.  As 
soon  as  any  form  has  been  outgrown,  we 
see  its  limitations,  but  compared  with  earlier 
forms  it  was  a  gain.  The  test  is  whether 
at  any  given  time  that  which  is  worshipped 
is  above  the  worshipper  or  below  him,  whether 
the  worship  lifts  his  nature  or  degrades  it. 

There  is  a  popular  definition  of  superstition 
based  on  a  derivation  from  superstare,  which 
makes  superstition  a  survival,  something  which 
stands  over  or  is  left  beyond  its  time.  The 
etymology  is  mistaken,  but  superstition  does 
take  a  necessary  place  in  religion,  and  survives 
for  a  time  after  larger  truths  have  come.  In 
the  terms  "  heathenism  "  and  "  paganism,"  both 
of  which  refer  to  the  persistence  of  older  forms 
in  villages  and  out-of-the-way  places  after 
Christianity  had  been  recognized  in  the  cities, 
we  have  an  illustration  of  the  different  aspect 


ITS  POSSIBLE  ABSOLUTE  ELEMENT        107 

of  superstition  as  something  which  stands  in 
the  way  when  it  has  outlived  its  time.  We 
may  notice  also,  in  passing,  that  narrowness  of 
external  form  often  stands  around  some  posi- 
tive, absolute  element.  A  neighbor  tells  meN 
that  if  I  will  unite  with  his  church  I  shall 
find  God.  I  may  indeed  find  God  in  this  way. 
Yet  my  neighbor's  attitude  must  somewhat 
remind  us  of  the  boy  who  sold  tickets  of 
admission  to  his  mother's  yard  to  those  who 
wished  to  see  the  eclipse  ;  those  who  entered 
may  be  said  to  have  received  their  money's 
worth  ;  they  saw  what  they  had  paid  to  see. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  SUPERNATURAL  CONSIDERED  AS  POSITIVE 
—  THE  RELIGIOUS  FEELINGS  —  THE  PROG- 
RESS FROM  THE  RELIGION  OF  SELF-RELATED 
FEELING  TO  THE  RELIGION  IN  WHICH  THE 
FEELING  CENTRES  IN  GOD 

As  we  pass  to  the  consideration  of  the  super- 
natural regarded  as  positive,  we  must  take  care 
that  we  do  not  repeat  the  mistake  of  Spencer 
and  Schleiermacher.  We  found  them  working 
somewhat  arbitrarily,  at  least  in  part,  making 
their  definitions  of  religion  fit  their  systems 
of  philosophy.  We  must  try  instead  to  keep 
close  to  the  facts  of  religion  itself  as  recog- 
nized in  the  world  ;  for  it  is  better  that  we 
should  have  a  very  imperfect  science  of  reli- 
gion than  a  very  perfect  science  of  something 
which  is  not  religion. 

We  shall  be  helped  in  this  if  we  first  bring 
together  the  different  kinds  of  feelings  which 
have  been  recognized  as  religious,  including  all 
108 


THREE  GROUPS  OF  FEELINGS  109 

which  have  some  place  in  religion,  even  though 
all  may  not  be  essential.  We  may  group  them 
under  three  general  headings.  The  first  group 
will  include  all  the  religious  feelings  which  are 
self-centred,  or,  to  use  a  more  exact  term,  self- 
related  :  the  negative  feeling,  fear  ;  the  posi- 
tive feelings,  trust,  conciliation,  gratitude, 
praise  ;  and  the  mediative  feelings,  submission 
and  reconciliation.  In  the  second  group  we 
shall  have  those  feelings  whose  centre  is 
divided  :  recognition  and  dread.  And  in  the 
third  group  will  be  found  the  feelings  which 
centre  in  God  :  first,  love  and  worship ;  second, 
awe  and  obedience  ;  and  lastly,  self-surrender,  7 
this  self-surrender  being  either  mystical  or 
ethical,  the  highest  surrender  possible  and  not 
merely  submission.  We  might  add  to  this 
list ;  but  we  have  included  most  of  the  feel- 
ings which  are  typical.  It  should  be  said,  in 
passing,  that  the  terms  used  are  somewhat 
forced  in  certain  cases,  and  that  sometimes 
the  expression  of  the  feeling  has  been  used 
instead  of  the  feeling  itself. 

The   self-centred  or  self-related  feelings  are 
those   of   the  worshipper   who   seeks   his   own 


110  SELF-RELATED  FEELINGS 

good.  His  relation  to  the  divinity  who  is  the 
object  of  his  worship  is  that  of  expectation  of 
some  service,  or  of  recognition  of  a  service 
which  has  been  performed.  The  worshipper 
regards  himself  as  the  centre,  and  appeals  to 
the  divinity  to  help  him  in  the  attainment 
of  the  special  ends  which  he  has  at  heart,  or 
to  deliver  him  from  evils  which  he  wishes  to 
avoid.  The  first  of  these  self-related  feelings 
is  negative,  the  fear  of  the  divinity.  It  is  so 
prominent  in  the  lower  forms  of  religion  that  ' 
some  have  concluded  that  religion  originally  [ 
sprang  from  fear.  This  is  an  exaggeration  ; 
yet  fear  does  have  a  large  place  in  the  religion 
of  the  savage,  to  whom  death  or  sickness  brings 
the  thought  of  some  interference  with  the 
natural  order  of  things  on  the  part  of  the 
supernatural  beings  whom  he  must  propitiate. 
Following  this  first  relation  there  comes  the 
stage  in  which  the  worshipper  thinks  that  he 
has  formed  such  a  relation  with  the  divinities 
that  they  will  help  him,  and  his  negative  feel- 
ing of  fear  changes  to  a  positive  trust.  The 
divinity  has  become  the  god  of  his  tribe  or 
his  nation  ;  or  he  has  made  a  bargain  with 


SELF-RELATED  FEELINGS  111 

him,  and  the  divinity  must  keep  it ;  Indra  has 
drunk  the  soma  juice.  If  the  divinity  is  in- 
different, he  will  conciliate  him.  If  the  divin- 
ity has  given  aid,  the  worshipper  will  return 
gratitude  and  praise.  The  term  "praise"  is 
often  used  in  the  sense  of  worship,  but  worship 
requires  a  higher  view  of  the  divinity  than 
praise.  We  worship  only  that  which  is  ex- 
alted above  us,  but  that  which  we  praise 
may  be  on  an  equality  with  us  or  even  on  a 
lower  plane  ;  we  praise  a  servant  or  a  child, 
or  a  horse  or  a  dog.  The  praise  which  the 
self-related  worshipper  gives  his  god  is  not 
for  what  the  divinity  is,  but  for  what  he  has 
done ;  he  says,  not  "  How  good  God  is  ! " 
but  "  How  good  God  has  been  to  me  !  " 

Of  the  mediative  feelings  the  submission  of 
the  self-related  worshipper  is  the  surrender 
to  the  inevitable.  The  world  has  gone  wrong, 
the  divinity  has  failed  to  do  what  the  wor- 
shipper hoped  for  ;  but  the  worshipper  feels 
that  it  is  useless  for  him  to  strive  longer 
against  a  power  greater  than  his  own,  and  so 
he  submits,  not  gladly,  but  because  he  must. 
In  the  course  of  the  conflict  a  breach  has 


112          FEELINGS   WITH  DIVIDED  CENTRE 

opened,  but  with  the  submission  of  the  wor- 
shipper the  breach  is  closed  and  reconciliation 
takes  place. 

The  second  group,  that  which  includes  the 
feelings  whose  centre  is  divided,  is  psycho- 
logical rather  than  historical.  It  marks  the 
development  of  the  worshipper  out  of  the 
lower  into  the  higher  forms  of  the  religious 
life.  The  worshipper  begins  to  see  that  the 
divinity  has  needs  of  its  own  to  which  the 
worshipper  ought  to  yield ;  he  begins  to  recog- 
nize the  rightfulness  of  the  moral  and  divine 
law.  Yet  at  the  same  time  he  shrinks  from 
obedience  to  it.  He  finds  himself  in  the  situa- 
tion which  Paul  describes  :  "  For  not  what  I 
would,  that  do  I  practise  ;  but  what  I  hate, 
that  I  do.  .  .  .  For  I  delight  in  the  law  of 
God  after  the  inward  man  :  but  I  see  a  differ- 
ent law  in  my  members,  warring  against  the 
law  of  my  mind,  and  bringing  me  into  cap- 
tivity under  the  law  of  sin  which  is  in  my 
members."  1 

In  the  third  group  of  feelings  God  is  the 
centre,  and  the  worshipper  not  only  feels  and 
i  Rom.  vii.  16,  22-23. 


FEELINGS   WHICH  CENTRE  IN  GOD          113 

recognizes  the  supremacy  of  the  divinity,  but 
rejoices  in  it.  Love  is  felt  toward  him,  not  for 
what  he  has  done  for  the  worshipper,  but  for 
what  he  is  in  himself.  Worship  is  rendered, 
not  because  he  has  brought  help  to  the  wor- 
shipper, but  because  he  is  in  himself  worthy 
of  worship.  We  have  not  left  absolutely  be- 
hind us  the  negative  element,  for  we  have  awe. 
This  awe,  however,  is  not  the  sort  of  negative 
which  we  call  superstition,  for  it  is  not  a  re- 
lation toward  the  supernatural  regarded  as 
negative ;  that  which  inspires  the  awe  is 
greater  in  the  mind  of  the  worshipper  than 
the  awe.  So  in  a  great  storm  the  recognition 
of  the  might  of  the  elements  produces  in  us 
a  sense  of  awe  very  different  from  the  sense 
of  personal  fear.  Awe  is  thus  rather  a  remi- 
niscence of  the  negative  element  than  its 
actual  presence.  It  is,  or  should  be,  insepara- 
ble from  the  higher  religious  feelings.  It 
belongs,  indeed,  not  merely  to  the  religious, 
but  to  all  the  higher  feelings.  In  the  relation 
between  two  friends,  for  example,  if  one  loses 
his  reverence  for  the  personality  of  the  other, 
then  friendship  has  lost  one  of  its  exalting 


114         FEELINGS   WHICH  CENTRE  IN  GOD 

and  purifying  characteristics.  The  father  or 
mother  may  feel  awe  toward  the  little  child. 
Toward  God,  if  once  we  have  the  slightest 
sense  of  the  eternal,  infinite  nature  of  his 
being,  awe  must  enter  always  into  every  feel- 
ing, even  our  tenderest  love  ;  when  awe  ap- 
pears to  be  absent,  it  is  as  though  the  flower 
and  bloom  of  religious  feeling  had  been 
rubbed  off. 

Associated  with  the  feeling  of  awe  is  the 
spirit  of  obedience.  An  external,  formal 
obedience  may  be  found  among  the  self-re- 
lated feelings.  Such  obedience,  however,  is 
unwilling  ;  it  is  very  different  from  this  spirit 
of  obedience. 

Finally  we  have  self -surrender.  This,  again, 
is  different  from  the  submission  of  the  self- 
related  life.  Submission,  although  it  may  be 
used  in  a  higher  sense,  is  often  used  in  the 
sense  of  mere  surrender  to  force  or  to  neces- 
sity. Self-surrender,  on  the  other  hand,  can 
be  understood  only  when  one  gives  himself  up 
to  something  which  he  feels  is  worthy  of  the 
sacrifice.  We  see  the  difference  which  is  im- 
plied in  the  conception  of  the  divinity  when  we 


TWO  FORMS  OF  SELF-SURRENDER          115 

think  of  the  two  interpretations  which  we  may 
give  to  the  words  of  the  Forty-sixth  Psalm, 
"  Be  still  and  know  that  I  am  God." l  On  the 
one  hand  is  the  God  of  might,  forcing  the  sub- 
mission of  his  creature,  asking  him  why  he 
should  contend  in  his  helplessness  with  the 
infinite  power ;  on  the  other  is  the  God  who 
invites  the  worshipper  to  surrender  himself  to 
the  infinite  wisdom  and  love,  which  can  do  for 
him  beyond  what  he  can  desire  or  conceive. 
Thus  the  father  may  say  to  his  child,  "I  am 
your  father,"  requiring  submission  to  parental 
authority,  or  in  the  same  words  may  express 
the  love  and  the  wisdom  which  shall  lead  the 
child  to  surrender  himself.  i/ 

Self -surrender  appears  in  two  forms.  The 
first,  the  mystical,  is  found  in  Brahmanism  and 
in  the  Christianity  of  the  mystics  ;  we  see  it 
in  Paul,  and  in  Schleiermacher's  sense  of  abso- 
lute dependence.  In  the  second,  the  ethical 
form,  the  individual  gives  himself  up,  not  sim- 
ply to  the  spirit  of  obedience,  but  to  the  actual 
doing  of  the  will  of  God  in  whatever  direction 
one  is  led. 

i  Ps.  xlvi.  10. 


116  LOVE   TO  GOD  AND  SELF-LOVE 

Self-surrender  can  take  place  only  toward 
that  which  represents  the  self.  A  man's  ideal, 
that  which  he  earnestly  longs  to  be  and  tries 
to  be,  is  more  himself  than  that  which  he  is, 
just  as  the  plant  is  much  more  the  reality  of 
the  seed  than  is  the  seed  itself  so  long  as  it 
remains  without  germinating.  There  can  be, 
therefore,  no  self-surrender  to  the  divinity  un- 
less the  divinity  fulfils  our  own  highest  ideals, 
and  we  can  in  this  sense  surrender  to  our  own 
truest  self.  Love  to  God  is  the  recognition 
that  the  divinity  thus  fulfils  our  ideals. 

Can  there  remain  in  this  highest  form  of 
religion  any  of  the  self-related  feelings?  Is 
it  necessary  that  there  should  be  absolute 
extinction  of  all  relation  to  self?  Must  the 
man  who  loves  God  cease  to  love  himself? 
Some  have  held  to  this  as  essential  to  the  high- 
est religious  life.  Yet,  if  we  do  not  love  our- 
selves, there  is  a  certain  blank  in  our  lives  ; 
there  is  one  direction  in  which  our  own  love 
does  not  extend;  and  if  we  do  not  rejoice  in 
our  own  personal  relation  to  God,  there  is  one 
point  in  which  we  have  failed  to  give  the  love 
of  God  full  recognition.  If,  to  use  the  phrase 


LOVE  TO  GOD  AND  SELF-LOVE  117 

attributed  to  a  certain  religious  sect,  a  man 
were  "willing  to  be  damned  for  the  glory  of 
God,"  he  would  simply  be  willing  that  the 
outgoing  love  of  God  should  come  to  a  stop 
at  that  point  where  he  himself  was  concerned. 
We  know  what  is  good  and  pleasant  only  by 
experience.  We  cannot  understand  the  pleas- 
ure of  another  if  we  have  none  ourselves.  If 
all  good  and  happiness  were  passed  on  by  every 
one  to  some  one  else,  no  one  would  have  any. 
A  man  stands  on  a  cliff  looking  out  across  the 
sea  toward  the  setting  sun,  and  sees  a  path  of 
light  between  himself  and  the  sun ;  other  men 
stand  on  either  side  along  the  cliff,  and  each 
sees  in  the  same  way  his  path  of  light.  It  adds 
to  the  thought  of  the  glory  of  the  sun  that  all 
are  thus  sharing  the  same  experience ;  but  each 
could  have  no  conception  of  the  rays  which 
are  covering  the  whole  line  of  coast,  if  he  did 
not  see  the  special  beauty  of  the  ray  which 
connects  him  individually  and  personally  with 
the  sun.  So  experience  in  one's  self  and  for 
one's  self  is  the  key  to  the  comprehension  of 
the  experience  of  others,  and  to  the  best 
method  of  serving  others. 


118  SELF-LOVE  AND  SELFISHNESS 

The  whole  difficulty  arises  from  a  confusion 
of  self-love  with  selfishness.  There  is  always 
a  tendency  in  men  to  go  to  extremes.  As  the 
recognition  of  the  immorality  of  sensual  pleas- 
ure when  carried  to  lawlessness  led  to  the 
condemnation  of  all  sensual  pleasure,  whether 
legitimate  or  not,  so  the  evident  evil  of  selfish- 
ness has  produced  the  view  that  all  self-regard 
or  self-love  is  wrong.  But  the  evil  of  selfish- 
ness lies  in  its  exclusiveness  and  in  its  claim 
to  have  a  monopoly  of  any  good  or  pleasure. 
If  on  a  cold  night  we  go  into  a  room  and  take 
a  place  before  the  fire,  the  act  becomes  selfish 
only  when  some  one  else  is  crowded  out.  In 
self-love  we  may  thank  God  for  the  blessings 
we  have  received ;  it  is  a  very  different  thing 
when  we  thank  him  because  we  have  received 
more  than  others.  It  is  normal  for  a  child  to 
rejoice  in  his  mother's  love;  the  abnormal 
appears  only  when  the  child  rejoices  because 
he  is  loved  more  than  his  brothers. 

Further,  healthy  self-assertion  is  important 
for  others;  it  becomes  a  form  of  altruism^ 
For  the  development  of  life  in  the  social 
order  results  largely  from  the  mutual  resist- 


SELF-SACRIFICE  119 

ance  of  individuals.  A  man  leads  a  healthy 
life  because  he  meets  with  resistance  from 
all  sides.  If  in  any  direction  resistance  is 
withdrawn,  there  is  at  once  the  tendency  to 
abnormal  development  in  that  direction.  If 
one  of  two  friends  always  gives  way  to  the 
other,  he  tends  to  establish  in  the  other  a 
habit  of  claiming  consideration  and  indul- 
gence. In  the  same  way  a  mother,  by  sacri- 
ficing herself  constantly  to  her  children,  may 
lead  them  to  think  that  she  does  not  mind 
sacrifice ;  they  cease  to  consider  her,  and 
become  selfish.  The  rule,  "It  is  more  blessed 
to  give  than  to  receive,"1  must  be  allowed  to 
work  both  ways,  and  another  than  ourselves 
be  sometimes  permitted  the  greater  blessed- 
ness. 

There  are,  of  course,  occasions  when  self- 
regard  has  no  place,  when  one  must  wholly 
forget  one's  self.  Under  certain  conditions, 
for  instance,  we  recognize  a  virtue  in  giving 
one's  life  for  another.  A  man  may  ask  in 
such  a  case,  "Why  should  I  sacrifice  myself? 
Is  it  anything  more  than  an  exchange  of 
i  Acts  xx.  85. 


120  SELF-SACRIFICE 

.equal  values?"  But  conditions  may  be  such 
that  lives  are  no  longer  to  be  judged  as  of 
equal  value.  Suppose  two  men  are  on  a  raft 
at  sea,  and  only  one  can  be  saved;  one  is 
single,  the  other  has  a  family ;  the  loss  to 
the  world  would  be  greater  if  the  man  with 
the  family  should  drown,  because  his  death 
would  affect  a  greater  number.  As  between 
the  general  of  an  army  and  a  common  sol- 
dier, the  life  of  the  general  becomes  more 
valuable,  because  upon  him  depends  the  con- 
duct of  the  whole  campaign.  There  are 
cases  where  an  individual  may  save  a  multi- 
tude. In  all  these  cases  equality  no  longer 
exists.  It  is  conceivable,  also,  that  one  might 
give  one's  life  for  a  worthless  person  if  by 
the  sacrifice  the  person  benefited  would  be 
reformed.  There  may  be  also  a  self-sacrifice 
of  discipline.  But  an  unreasoning  self-sacri- 
fice is  not  ennobling;  when  self  is  sacrificed 
it  should  be  for  some  object,  and  it  is  the 
object  which  gives  worth  to  the  sacrifice. 
After  all  is  said,  the  generous  mind  will  not 
try  to  draw  the  line  too  carefully  between 
selfishness  and  self-love.  Self-love,  further- 


GOD'S  LOVE  UNIVERSAL  121 

more,  hardly  needs  to  be  preached;  as  a  rule 
it  takes  care  of  itself;  the  danger  is  of  too 
little  self-surrender. 

When  our  friends  care  more  for  us  than 
they  do  for  others,  we  are  glad.  Why  should 
we  not  feel  a  similar  joy  in  the  thought  that 
God  may  love  us  more  than  others?  The 
conditions,  however,  are  different.  In  earthly 
relations  we  expect  and  rightly  demand  a 
certain  favoritism,  a  warmth  of  personal  affec- 
tion, which  cannot  be  given  to  all  alike  in 
the  same  degree.  This  is  what  we  mean  by 
friendship.  The  broader,  more  general  affec- 
tions, the  larger  philanthropy  and  human 
interest,  grow  out  of  this  more  intense  affec- 
tion of  friend  for  friend,  and  depend  upon 
it  for  their  highest  meaning  and  value.  It 
is  true  that  in  some  forms  of  religion  the 
attempt  is  made  to  do  away  with  all  special 
and  particular  affection,  on  the  ground  that 
it  brings  with  it  care  and  pain  and  sorrow ; 
but  if  personal  love  ceases,  we  feel  that  a  very 
essential  element  of  human  life  is  lost.  Where 
there  is  an  equal  claim,  however,  we  expect 
equal  love.  The  child  would  be  justly  grieved 


122  FAVORITISM  HAS  NO  PLACE 

if  his  mother  did  not  care  more  for  him  than 
for  the  children  in  the  street;  but  he  would 
also  be  pained  to  know  that  his  mother  loved 
him  either  more  or  less  than  she  did  his 
brothers.  Now,  all  have  an  equal  claim 
upon  God,  and  in  our  conception  of  the 
infinite  love  we  can  imagine  no  limitation 
such  as  we  find  in  finite  relations ;  the  infinite 
love  is  inexhaustible,  and  we  rejoice  in  its 
universality  and  not  in  its  selection  of  our- 
selves. 

The  idea  of  favoritism  has  indeed  held  a 
prominent  place  in  religion  ;  the  earlier  divini- 
ties were  tribal  or  national,  and  therefore  par- 
tisan. But  as  the  conception  of  the  divinity 
becomes  broader  and  higher,  no  room  is  found 
for  favoritism.  The  relation  in  which  God 
stands  toward  the  sinner  is  no  exception. 
Even  in  the  family,  indignation  at  wrong- 
doing and  blame  do  not  check  affection  for 
the  wrong-doer ;  a  light-minded  father  or 
mother,  it  is  true,  may  allow  anger  to  take 
the  place  of  affection  toward  a  disobedient  or 
wayward  child,  but  the  large-hearted  parent 
will  never  lov-e  the  child  more  than  at  those 


DIFFERENCE  OF  OPPORTUNITY  123 

times  when  punishment  must  be  administered. 
We  know  that  there  is  danger  in  carrying 
anthropomorphic  ideas  too  far  into  the  thought 
of  God ;  yet  the  highest  symbol  which  we 
have  of  God's  spirit  is  our  own  spiritual  life, 
and  we  cannot  conceive  of  the  sinner  as  in  any 
relation  to  God  other  than  that  of  an  erring 
child  to  a  loving  father. 

Some  one  may  ask,  however,  how  it  is  possi- 
ble for  the  unfortunate  and  afflicted  to  believe 
that  God's  love  is  equal.  In  answering  such 
a  question,  we  have  to  remind  ourselves  that 
various  individuals  are  called  for  various  ser- 
vices. The  world  offers  not  so  much  different 
degrees  of  benefit  as  different  kinds  of  service, 
and  any  advantage  which  one  appears  to  have 
over  another  is  simply  his  greater  opportunity 
for  usefulness.  We  do  not  say  that  the  gen- 
eral is  favored  above  the  common  soldier 
because  he  stands  apart  from  the  conflict. 
The  son  who  is  sent  to  college  is  not  loved 
above  his  brothers  who  are  compelled  to 
remain  at  home  ;  he  has  only  been  selected 
for  a  particular  sphere  of  usefulness. 

Although   any  exclusiveness   of   claim,   any 


124  SELF-REGARD   TRANSFIGURED 

thought  of  exceptional  love,  is  out  of  place  in 
the  highest  conception  of  religion,  yet  the  con- 
sciousness of  individual  love,  the  self-assertion  ] 
which  claims  for  itself  only  what  belongs  to  it, 
is  right,  and  gives  nobility  to  life.     "  He  call-  \ 
eth  his   own   sheep   by   name."1      Such   self- 
assertion  is  necessary  if   there   is   to   be  true 
self-surrender. 

"  Our  wills  are  ours,  to  make  them  thine."  2 

The  feelings  which  in  the  lower  forms  of  reli- 
gious life  were  only  self-related,  are  now  in  the 
highest  forms  transfigured,  leaving  behind  all 
selfishness.  A  man  comes  to  give  thanks,  not 
because  he  has  been  particularly  favored  in 
this  or  that,  apart  from  others,  or  above  others, 
but  simply  out  of  joy  in  the  consciousness  that 
he  is  blessed,  and  that  the  whole  world  is  par- 
taker in  the  divine  blessing.  His  appreciation 
of  what  he  has  himself  received  gives  warmth 
and  reality  to  his  thanksgiving,  while  his  own 
experience  makes  possible  for  him  a  sympathy 
with  the  experience  of  the  race. 

The  transition  from  the  self-related  feelings 

1  John  x.  3.        2  Tennyson,  "  In  Meinoriam,"  the  prologue. 


TRANSITION  TO  GOD-CENTRED  FEELINGS      125 

to  the  feelings  which  centre  in  God  is  the 
most  important  change  which  can  take  place 
in  religion.  Some  have  considered  the  pas- 
sage from  polytheism  to  monotheism  most  im- 
portant. They  are  right  so  far  as  religious 
thought  is  concerned  ;  but  feeling  is  more 
fundamental  in  religion  than  thought.  The 
individual  may  pass  from  polytheistic  to  mono- 
theistic belief,  and  remain  all  the  time  in  the 
lowest  stage  of  religious  feeling,  as  self -related 
at  the  last  in  his  attitude  toward  the  one  God 
as  he  was  at  the  outset  toward  the  various 
divinities  of  his  earlier  belief.  It  is  true  that 
the  monotheistic  view  is  more  favorable  to  the 
development  of  unselfish  feeling  than  polythe- 
ism, in  so  far  as  it  leads  to  the  thought  that  all 
men  are  the  children  of  one  infinite  being,  and 
so  promotes  a  fraternal  feeling  among  men 
toward  one  another.  Community  of  religious 
belief  has  done  much  to  consolidate  tribes  and 
peoples,  and  also  to  intensify  religious  feeling 
among  them.  This,  however,  does  not  always 
hold  true;  for,  as  I  have  said,  the  individual 
worshipper  may  regard  the  one  God  only  in 
relation  to  his  own  interests ;  the  children  in 


126  ARGUMENT  OF  COMTE 

a  family  should  naturally  love  one  another 
more  because  of  their  common  parentage,  but 
one  or  another  of  them  may  look  upon  the 
father  or  mother  only  in  relation  to  himself. 
Comte  argues1  that,  as  religion  develops 
from  fetichism  to  polytheism,  and  from  poly- 
theism to  monotheism,  it  becomes  less  intense 
and  personal.  The  fetich  worshipper  finds  his 
divinity  near  at  hand,  he  has  close  contact  with 
him.  The  change  to  polytheism  is  a  process 
of  generalization,  the  objects  of  worship  are 
classified,  and  it  is  no  longer  this  or  that  par- 
ticular thing  which  is  worshipped,  but  this  or 
that  kind  of  thing  ;  Apollo  is  not  so  near  to 
the  worshipper  as  was  the  sun.  In  monothe- 
ism the  process  of  abstraction  is  carried  still 
farther,  and  the  object  of  worship  is  made 
yet  more  remote  ;  and  the  more  abstract  and 
remote  the  conception  of  the  divinity,  the 
less  intense  and  real  is  the  relation  of  the 
worshipper  toward  him.  Thus  the  passage 
from  fetichism  to  monotheism,  according  to 
Comte,  marks  the  decline  of  religion.  Comte 

1  Auguste  Comte,  "Positive  Philosophy,"  translated  by 
Harriet  Martineau,  Vol.  II,  Bk.  VI. 


DECLINE  IN  RELIGIOUS  INTEREST         127 

is  right  in  so  far  as  he  emphasizes  feeling 
rather  than  any  form  of  thought  in  tracing 
the  development  of  religion,  and  his  whole 
argument  is  plausible  ;  but  the  conclusion 
which  he  reaches  is  not  inevitable.  The 
monotheistic  conception  may  be  abstract,  and 
yet  the  worshipper  may  have  a  sense  of  close 
relation  to  the  divinity  more  vital  than  that 
of  the  fetich  worshipper.  The  fetich  is  exter- 
nal only  to  the  worshipper,  something  outside 
of  and  over  against  him.  The  infinite  divinity 
is  not  only  without  but  within ;  the  worshipper 
lives  and  moves  and  has  his  being  in  him  ;  he 
is  all-pervading  and  all-upholding.  Here  is  an 
intimacy  which  fetichism  cannot  give. 

The  change  from  self-related  feeling  to 
God-centred  feeling  may  explain  in  part  the 
apparent  decline  in  the  interest  which  the 
great  mass  of  people  take  in  religion.  Just 
so  far  as  the  people  who  regard  themselves 
as  the  chief  centre  of  interest  are  more  numer- 
ous than  those  who  are  willing  to  give  them- 
selves up  for  larger  interests,  a  God-centred 
religion  must  appeal  to  a  smaller  number  than 
one  which  is  self-regarding.  In  church-going, 


128  ITS  SIGNIFICANCE 

for  example,  a  great  influence  is  brought  to  bear 
when  the  worshipper  thinks  that  his  attend- 
ance is  noted  by  the  divinity,  and  that  he  ^ 
may,  as  it  were,  gain  a  good  mark  by  regular  \ 
attendance  ;  the  higher  conception  of  church- 
going,  as  an  opportunity  for  spiritual  growth 
and  inspiration,  appeals  to  a  smaller  number. 
Further,  in  self-related  religion,  the  divinity  is 
more  prominent,  so  far  as  the  attitude  of  the 
worshipper  is  concerned,  than  in  the  God- 
centred,  because  in  the  self-related  religion 
the  worshipper  is  trying  to  influence  the  di- 
vinity to  favor  him.  He  thinks  of  the  divinity 
as  entering  into  a  bargain  with  him.  "  Serve 
me,"  the  divinity  appears  to  him  to  say,  "and 
I  will  bless  you."  In  the  religion  which  is 
God-centred,  the  word  of  the  divinity  is,  "  Go, 
do  my  will ;  serve  your  fellows."  The  move- 
ment is  toward  the  world.  On  a  clear  winter 
evening  we  say,  "How  beautiful  the  stars 
are  !  "  On  a  bright,  sunny  day  we  say,  not 
"  How  beautiful  is  the  sun !  "  but  "  How  beau- 
tiful is  the  world !  "  The  stars  reveal  them- 
selves ;  the  sun  reveals  the  whole  world  to  us. 
Not  that  we  lose  relation  toward  God  in  see- 


ITS  SIGNIFICANCE  129 

ing  more  fully  the  relation  toward  those  about 
us.  If  relation  to  God  were  absent,  we  might 
have  a  philanthropy,  but  we  should  no  longer 
have  religion.  We  must  remember  that  our 
service  to  man  is  the  outcome  of  our  relation 
to  God,  and  that  the  two  elements  cannot  be 
separated  without  loss. 

We  speak  of  a  decline  in  religious  interest, 
and  we  see  how  it  is  that  the  higher  forms  of 
religious  feeling  may  appeal  to  a  smaller  num- 
ber. It  would  not  be  true,  however,  to  say 
that  there  is  less  religion  in  the  world  than 
formerly.  There  is  more  true  religion  in  half 
an  hour's  questioning :  "  What  wilt  thou  have 
me  to  do  ?  "  than  in  a  whole  lifetime  of  asking : 
"  What  wilt  thou  do  for  me  ?  " 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  CONTENT  OF  THE  SUPERNATURAL  —  THE 
THREE  IDEAS  OF  THE  REASON — TRUTH, 
GOODNESS,  AND  BEAUTY  AS  IMPLIED  IN 
THE  RELIGIOUS  FEELINGS — INSTINCT  AND 
REASON 

As  we  compare  the  self-related  feelings  with 
those  which  centre  in  God,  we  find  this  great 
difference,  that  the  higher  feelings  imply  a 
certain  content  in  the  divinity  which  is  not 
similarly  involved  in  the  lower  feelings.  The 
divinity  is  not  a  mere  abstract  form,  which 
we  may  use  if  we  will,  but  a  being  with  a 
place  and  will  of  his  own,  independent  of  our 
personalities,  worshipped  by  us  because  he 
is  in  himself  lovable,  trusted  because  he  is 
worthy  of  trust.  The  relation  is  no  longer 
between  an  individual  worshipper  and  an 
individual  divinity,  but  between  the  indi- 
vidual worshipper  and  the  absolutely  worship- 
ful, trustworthy,  and  lovable. 
130 


THE  IDEAS  OF  THE  REASON  131 

What  is  the  nature  of  this  content?  Our 
minds  and  hearts  are  full  of  varied  thoughts 
and  experiences.  It  seems  impossible  to  clas- 
sify them.  We  find,  however,  a  classification 
already  made.  It  comes,  handed  down  to  us, 
as  the  result  of  the  thought  of  the  ages.  Ac- 
cording to  this  classification,  the  content  of 
the  divinity  is  found  in  the  three  ideas  of  the 
reason  —  truth,  goodness,  and  beauty.  Truth 
we  use  here  in  the  sense  of  unity  ;  we  shall 
see  the  justification  of  this  use  later.  In 
speaking  of  these  ideas  of  the  reason,  we 
often  consider  them  objectively  as  well  as 
subjectively,  referring  not  only  to  the  ideas 
themselves,  but  also  to  the  realities  which  cor- 
respond to  the  ideas.  For  example,  I  mean 
by  unity  not  only  my  own  thought  of  unity, 
but  also  the  great  fact  which  I  recognize  as 
corresponding  to  my  thought. 

What,  then,  is  the  relation  between  the  ideas 
of  the  reason  and  the  highest  forms  of  the 
religious  feeling  ?  We  may  make  our  exami- 
nation in  either  of  two  ways.  First,  we  may 
begin  with  the  religious  feelings  themselves, 
and  ask  whether  they  imply  the  ideas  of  the 


132  FREE  RELIGIOUS  FEELINGS 

reason  ;  and,  second,  we  may  begin  with  the 
ideas  of  the  reason  and  ask  whether  they  would 
in  themselves  give  rise  to  the  religious  feel- 
ings. In  contrast  with  the  concrete  feelings 
which  we  have  just  been  considering,  we  may 
call  the  feelings  toward  truth,  goodness,  and 
beauty  free  religious  feelings,  using  the  term 
"  free  "  in  the  sense  in  which  the  chemist  uses 
it  when  he  speaks  of  free  oxygen,  oxygen,  that 
is,  which  is  not  combined  with  anything  else. 
The  feelings  toward  truth,  goodness  and  beauty 
are  of  the  nature  of  religion,  they  have  a  cer- 
tain religiosity ;  but  when  they  exist  apart  we 
hesitate  to  speak  of  them  as  "religious."  The 
relation  of  the  philosopher  to  the  unity  of  the 
universe  which  he  is  seeking  is  not  in  itself 
religion  ;  it  is  of  the  same  sort  with  the  feeling 
of  the  poet  or  the  artist  toward  beauty,  or 
of  the  philanthropist  toward  charity  or  duty. 
These  feelings  become  religious  as  they  are 
combined  with  others,  when  to  the  thought  of 
truth  or  goodness  or  beauty  is  joined  the 
thought  of  the  supernatural.  Religion  is  the 
feeling  toward  the  Absolute  Being  in  whom  are 
united  truth  and  goodness  and  beauty. 


TRUST  133 

Do  the  religious  feelings,  then,  the  concrete 
religious  feelings,  imply  the  ideas  of  the  rea- 
son ?  Take  the  feeling  of  trust.  In  the  ordi- 
nary use  of  the  term,  when  we  say  that  we 
trust  a  person,  we  imply  that  we  find  in  him 
first  of  all  a  certain  degree  of  power,  physical 
or  intellectual  or  moral,  as  the  case  may  be  ; 
there  is  no  trust  or  reliance  unless  we  believe 
that  the  person  whom  we  trust  has  the  strength 
to  support  us.  We  imply  also  his  good  will, 
his  disposition  to  help  us,  and  also  the  continu- 
ance, the  stability,  of  this  favorable  disposition. 
Now,  when  we  come  to  the  thought  of  absolute 
reliance,  what  is  involved  ?  We  have  here  the 
very  heart  of  faith  in  one  of  its  aspects.  Ab- 
solute reliance  requires  in  the  person  trusted 
not  only  the  power  to  help,  but  unvarying, 
absolute  stability ;  there  must  be  no  change 
from  moment  to  moment.  Further,  there  must 
be  no  power  in  the  universe  strong  enough  to 
cause  disturbance.  This  means  that  there 
must  be  in  the  universe  nothing  foreign  to  the 
power  which  we  trust.  For  if  there  were  any- 
thing foreign  to  it,  how  could  we  be  sure  in 
advance  that  this  foreign  element  might  not 


134  TRUST  IMPLIES  UNITY 

overcome  it  ?  In  the  earlier  mythologies  there 
was  trust,  but  not  absolute  trust ;  the  di- 
vinities which  others  worshipped  might  be 
stronger  ;  the  gods  had  their  battles  as  well  as 
men,  and  one  god  or  -  another  might  be  de- 
feated ;  the  confidence  in  the  divinity  was  like 
that  in  an  army  or  a  general,  and  as  easily 
overthrown.  The  object  of  absolute  trust  must 
be  that  upon  which  all  things  depend,  the  unity 
of  the  universe.  Further,  not  only  must  there 
be  unity  in  the  object  of  worship,  but,  as  has 
been  already  implied,  this  unity  must  include 
the  worshipper  ;  the  worshipper  must  be  one 
with  the  absolute  power.  The  child  has  a 
trust  in  his  father  beyond  that  which  he  has  in 
another,  because  in  some  way  he  feels  that  his 
father  and  he  are  one.  The  saying,  "  Blood  is 
thicker  than  water,"  expresses  a  crude  but  in- 
stinctive trust  in  kindred  blood  which  typifies 
broadly  the  great  spiritual  unity  beneath  it. 
Just  as  we  trust  those  who  are  related  to  us  as 
we  cannot  so  readily  trust  others,  so  the  reli- 
ance of  the  worshipper  is  deeper  as  he  feels 
himself  one  with  the  object  of  his  worship.  "  In 
him  we  live  and  move  and  have  our  being." l 
i  Acts  xvii.  28. 


TRUST  IMPLIES  GOODNESS  135 

Trust  thus  implies  unity  in  the  object  of 
worship,  unity  in  time  and  in  fact,  and  unity 
of  the  worshipper  with  the  object  of  worship. 
It  must  imply  goodness  also.  We  can  rely 
upon  the  forces  of  nature,  so  far  as  regards 
their  permanence  ;  but  we  cannot  rely  upon 
them  to  do  us  good.  "  Fire  is  a  good  servant, 
but  a  hard  master."  The  forces  of  nature  may 
help,  or  they  may  destroy.  If  trust  is  to  be 
complete,  there  must  be  absolute  goodness  in 
the  object  toward  which  it  is  directed. 

What  is  implied  in  love?  In  human  rela- 
tions there  is  in  it  always  something  inde- 
scribable. The  lover  is  asked  what  it  is  in  his 
mistress  which  attracts  him,  and  the  picture 
which  he  draws  is  found  by  another  true  also 
of  his  own  beloved.  There  enters  the  personal 
element  which  cannot  be  described,  by  which 
one  appears  beautiful  and  another  not.  The 
element  of  contrast  also  has  its  part,  the  flaw 
perhaps  which  gives  the  good  qualities  added 
value,  and  breaks  up  what  might  have  seemed 
a  monotony  in  perfection.  Yet,  however  com- 
plex and  intangible  love  may  be,  we  find  the 
three  ideas  of  the  reason  essential  to  it.  As 


136  LOVE  IMPLIES   UNITY 

the  thought  of  unity  entered  to  deepen  the 
trust  between  the  child  and  its  parent,  so  in 
the  love  of  the  mother  for  the  child,  it  is  the 
thought  of  the  mother  that  her  child  is  part  of 
herself  which  gives  to  her  love  its  peculiar 
strength,  and  makes  it  the  type  of  love.  Some- 
thing of  this  sense  of  unity  is  found  in  all 
love ;  we  read  in  romances  of  the  "  exchange  of 
hearts "  ;  the  centre  of  the  lover's  being  is  in 
the  heart  of  the  beloved. 

Goodness  and  beauty,  too,  must  be  assumed 
in  the  object  of  love.  No  one  would  love 
another  whom  he  regarded  as  essentially  and 
fundamentally  bad ;  the  goodness  may  be 
obscured,  but  love  believes  that  at  least  the 
germ,  the  possibility  of  it,  is  there.  Often  the 
object  of  love  is  made  the  embodiment  of 
the  lover's  ideals,  and  sympathy  recognizes 
unfulfilled  possibilities  of  the  nature.  The 
mother  clings  to  her  son  whom  others  have 
abandoned ;  the  wife  still  believes  in  her 
vicious  husband  if  only  because  he  once  ap- 
peared worthy  of  her.  The  beauty  required  by 
love  is  not  necessarily  physical,  but  rather  spir- 
itual beauty,  grace  of  character,  that  which  is 


ALSO  GOODNESS  AND  BEAUTY  137 

natural.  Grace  does  not  take  the  place  of 
goodness,  though  it  is  hard  to  believe  that  it 
does  not  represent  goodness,  hard  even,  some- 
times, to  realize  that  mere  physical  beauty  does 
not  represent  goodness.  Beauty  of  character 
and  goodness  are  akin,  but  there  is  an  element 
in  beauty  different  from  goodness.  A  man  may 
have  a  strong  sense  of  duty,  he  may  always  do 
what  he  believes  he  ought  to  do,  and  yet  he 
may  lack  the  grace  of  character  which  calls 
forth  love  ;  goodness  is  often  hard  and  angular 
and  conscious.  But  grace,  naturalness,  even 
in  those  who  may  be  otherwise  less  worthy, 
calls  forth  answering  affection. 

It  is  this  element  of  naturalness  or  grace  or 
beauty  which  first  of  all  explains  the  affection 
so  often  given  to  plants.  There  enters  also 
many  times  a  certain  power  of  personification 
which  clothes  the  object  of  the  affections  with 
ideal  qualities,  and  sometimes,  too,  the  beauty 
of  the  outer  world  symbolizes  and  embodies 
certain  aspects  of  divine  perfection  ;  their  life 
is  in  some  way  a  representation  of  life  itself. 
Thus  some  thought  of  unity  and  of  goodness  as 
well  as  of  beauty  underlies  these  affections  also. 


138  WORSHIP 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  dwell  long  on  the 
thought  of  worship;  for  it  is  obvious  that 
worship  is  full  and  complete  in  proportion  as 
it  involves  all  three  ideas  of  the  reason.  In 
the  religion  of  the  Upanishads  the  worshipper 
recognizes  only  the  first  idea.  In  the  Mazdean 
religion  goodness  is  recognized,  but  not  unity. 
The  Greek  thought  emphasizes  beauty.  In 
each  case  worship  is  incomplete.  In  higher 
forms  of  worship  we  find  included  all  the 
qualities  which  call  forth  reverence.  There 
must  be  goodness  ;  for  power  alone,  though  it 
may  be  admired  or  feared,  is  not  reverenced. 
There  must  be  supremacy,  also  ;  in  supremacy 
are  implied  first  unity  and  then  perfection,  and 
perfection  adds  the  element  of  beauty,  the 
"glory  of  God." 

At  this  point  we  have  to  ask  whether  our 
table  of  the  religious  feelings  is  complete. 
Should  not  the  sense  of  sin,  and  repentance,  be 
added  to  the  list?  We  may  include  them 
among  the  feelings  of  the  third  class,  those 
which  centre  in  God ;  but  they  seern  to  be 
secondary,  a  result  of  the  primary  feelings. 
If  they  are  to  be  included,  it  is  easy  to  see 


SIN.     SELF-SURRENDER  139 

that  they  involve  recognition  of  the  ideas  of 
the  reason.  Sin  in  its  deepest  sense  refers 
rather  to  God  than  to  man.  It  implies  a 
recognition  of  divine  holiness  and  unity  from 
which  the  sinner  feels  himself  separated  and 
cut  off.  It  is  the  antithesis  of  self -surrender, 
the  refusal  to  surrender  one's  self;  the  sinner 
maintains  his  self-relation  instead  of  entering 
into  relation  with  God.  To  surrender  one's 
self  implies  necessarily  the  recognition  of  the 
ideals  to  which  the  life  gives  itself.  It  is  with 
self-surrender  as  with  trust.  There  must  be 
not  only  unity  in  that  to  which  we  surrender 
ourselves  considered  in  itself,  but  unity  be- 
tween it  and  ourselves.  As  we  have  seen 
already,  we  may  submit  to  that  which  is 
foreign  to  and  apart  from  ourselves,  but  we 
can  surrender  ourselves  only  to  that  which 
fulfils  our  own  highest  ideals  and  is  thus  in  a 
certain  sense  our  own  highest  self.  The  ideal 
which  we  hold  before  us,  and  to  which  we  are 
to  give  ourselves,  belongs  to  our  own  nature. 
We  may  not  be  conscious  of  this.  The  ideal 
may  be  foreign  to  the  life  actually  lived,  so 
that  the  identity  of  the  relationship  may  be 


140  INSTINCT 

obscured  ;  yet  even  here  the  attraction  toward 
the  ideal  shows  the  kinship  with  it  of  the  actual 
self.  The  idea  of  goodness  also  is  implied  in 
the  highest  self-surrender,  filling  out  the  con- 
ception of  that  to  which  one  gives  oneself.  In 
this  highest  form  of  self -surrender  the  life  is 
not  conscious  of  the  unity  in  which,  it  stands 
with  the  ideal,  it  is  not  conscious  that  it  is  sur- 
rendering itself.  Its  surrender  is  that  of  love. 
I  have  said  that  there  were  two  methods  by 
which  we  might  examine  the  relation  between 
the  ideas  of  the  reason  and  the  higher  forms 
of  religious  feeling.  Thus  far  we  have  fol- 
lowed the  first  of  these  methods  ;  beginning 
with  the  concrete  feelings  themselves,  we  have 
looked  to  see  whether  they  implied  the  ideas 
of  the  reason.  We  have  now  to  take  up  the 
second  and  more  essential  method  of  examina- 
tion, and  to  ask  whether  the  ideas  of  the 
reason  in  themselves  give  rise  to  the  religious 
feelings.  In  doing  this  we  shall  find  it  help- 
ful, first  of  all,  to  have  a  clear  idea  of  the 
part  which  instinct 1  has  in  life.  We  speak  of 

1  See    also    C.   C.   Everett,    "Essays   Theological    and 
Literary." 


INSTINCT  141 

man  as  a  bundle  of  instincts,  and  we  are  apt 
to  think  of  these  instincts  as  more  or  less  like 
so  many  quills  of  a  porcupine,  ready  to  be 
thrust  out  or  let  go.  In  reality,  however,  in- 
stincts are  tendencies  to  action,  tendencies  of 
individual  life  to  manifest  itself  in  one  way 
or  another.  When  I  spoke  of  the  primacy  of 
feeling  I  had  in  mind  its  primacy  in  manifesta- 
tion rather  than  in  fact.  Behind  feeling  there 
exists  something  which  manifests  itself  in  feel- 
ing, and  this  inner  self  is  the  instinctive  self. 
Why  do  we  take  satisfaction  in  doing  any- 
thing? It  can  be  only  because  there  is  a 
natural  tendency,  an  instinct,  to  perform  the 
act.  We  like  to  take  exercise,  to  eat  when 
we  are  hungry,  because  these  desires  are  in- 
stinctive. Of  course  these  instincts  may  be 
developed ;  the  savage's  love  of  beads  may 
become  the  aesthetic  appreciation  of  a  Raphael. 
Yet  "nature  is  made  better  by  no  means  but 
nature  made  these  means."  Development  is 
along  the  line  of  instinct. 

In  the  manifestation  of  instinct  the  first 
stage  is  impulse,  the  last  and  highest  stage  is 
the  ideal.  We  see  a  case  of  suffering,  and 


142  INSTINCT 

our  instinct  is  to  relieve  it ;  but  we  have  also 
an  instinctive  desire  to  avoid  it  as  well  as  to 
relieve  it.  We  sometimes  speak  of  the  altruis- 
tic impulse  as  built  upon  the  selfish  impulse  ; 
but  in  reality  the  one  is  as  natural  as  the 
other,  just  as  an  atom  exercises  attraction  as 
naturally  as  repulsion,  or  vice  versa.  In  the 
earliest  forms  of  life,  in  animals,  in  the  sav- 
age, in  a  child,  the  self-regarding  instincts 
may  be  the  more  powerful ;  but  to  a  certain 
extent  the  other  instincts  are  there,  and  their 
manifestation  is  as  natural,  when  it  occurs,  as 
the  manifestation  of  the  self-regar'ding  in- 
stincts. Sometimes  it  appears  as  though  by 
education  we  changed  the  nature  ;  but  in  such 
cases  what  we  see  is  only  the  result  of  the 
development  of  instincts  along  lines  in  which 
without  such  training  they  might  not  have 
been  developed.  Thus  a  dog  may  be  taught 
to  do  things  which  seem  foreign  to  his  nature  ; 
but  what  he  does  is  after  all  based  upon  his 
instincts,  social,  imitative,  and  affectionate ; 
the  path  by  which  the  result  is  reached  is  the 
instinctive  nature  of  the  animal  himself. 
We  do  not  desire  a  thing  because  it  is 


NIETZSCHE'S   VIEW  143 

desirable  ;  it  becomes  desirable  as  we  desire 
it,  as  it  meets  some  instinctive  demand  of  our 
nature.  Water  is  desirable  because  it  meets 
one  of  our  needs  ;  when  we  are  not  thirsty 
we  do  not  desire  it.  This  may  seem  to  un- 
settle all  the  fundamental  relations  of  things, 
and  make  highest  and  lowest  alike  dependent 
entirely  upon  the  point  of  view  of  the  indi- 
vidual. This,  according  to  Nietzsche,1  is  just 
what  does  happen.  Man,  he  says,  is  a  creature 
of  instincts,  and  these  instincts  practically 
make  up  his  life.  He  has  instincts  of  belief 
beyond  which  he  cannot  pass.  What,  then,  be- 
comes of  the  Absolute  ?  —  the  Absolute  Being 
or  the  Absolute  Truth?  There  can  be  no 
real  proof  of  anything,  and  each  believes 
simply  what  it  is  his  nature  to  believe.  Nietz- 
sche's premises  we  may  accept  heartily,  but 
his  conclusion  is  not  warranted.  The  confu- 
sion in  which  his  reasoning  seems  to  leave 
matters  of  belief  and  thought  disappears  when 

1  Friedrich  Nietzsche,  "Works,"  edited  by  Alexander 
Tille;  also  "Jenseits  von  Gut  und  Bose."  See  article  by 
C.  C.  Everett  in  the  New  World,  Vol.  VII,  "Beyond 
Good  and  Evil,"  reprinted  in  "  Essays  Theological  and 
Literary." 


144  INSTINCTS  OF  BELIEF 

we  look  more  closely.  It  is  idle  to  say  that 
something  is  simply  our  belief,  but  that  we 
do  not  know  whether  or  not  it  is  true  ;  if 
we  cannot  help  believing  we  cannot  really 
raise  the  question  whether  what  we  believe  is 
true  or  not. 

We  have  instincts  of  belief  as  well  as  in- 
stincts of  action.  At  one  time  instinct  may 
prompt  me  to  do  one  thing,  at  another  time, 
another.  Now,  when  a  man  has  formed  an 
ideal  of  life,  when,  we  will  say,  he  has  come 
to  feel  that  it  is  his  duty  to  do  all  that  he 
can  for  the  betterment  of  the  world,  or,  higher 
still,  when  the  sense  of  duty  has  become  in 
him  a  desire,  a  sense  of  privilege,  then  such  a 
man  has  reached  a  stage  far  in  advance  of  the 
impulses  of  his  earliest  stage.  Between  those 
impulses  and  the  high  ideal  is  the  realm  of 
conscious  reason.  We  compare  instincts,  in- 
telligence gives  its  aid,  and  what  were  at  first 
blind  impulses  become  ideals.  We  cannot, 
however,  give  account  of  the  ideal  any  more 
than  we  could  give  account  of  the  first  im- 
pulse. If  we  ask  ourselves  why  we  want  to 
make  people  better  or  happier,  there  is  no  in- 


REASON  AND  REASONING  145 

telligent  answer.  We  may  say,  "  Because  it  is 
better  for  them."  But  why  is  it  better,  and 
why  do  we  wish  it  to  be  better?  No  matter 
how  far  we  push  the  question,  we  come  at 
last  to  something  which  is  final,  and  to  which 
there  is  and  can  be  no  answer. 

Here  we  have  to  recognize  two  uses  of  the 
word  "  reason."  On  the  one  hand,  it  may  refer 
to  the  logical  process  of  thought  by  which 
certain  results  are  reached.  On  the  other 
hand,  we  use  it  with  reference  to  that  which 
appears  to  us  to  be  reasonable  or  unreasonable. 
When  we  say  that  a  man  does  what  is  rea- 
sonable, we  do  not  mean  that  his  action  is  the 
result  of  any  conscious  process  by  which  he 
has  argued  everything  to  a  conclusion,  but 
simply  that  he  has  done  that  which  conforms 
to  reason,  that  is,  to  the  ideal  of  life.  Often 
that  which  is  reasonable  may  contradict  that 
which  has  been  reasoned.  A  man  in  solving 
a  problem  obtains  a  wrong  result ;  he  may  not 
find  any  flaw  in  the  process  by  which  he  has 
reached  it,  yet  he  distrusts  the  result  because 
it  is  not  reasonable.  Reasoning  is  built  upon 
reason.  As  we  act  instinctively,  so  we  believe 


146  REASONING 

instinctively.  We  recognize  that  nothing  can 
be  absolutely  proved.  We  have  certain  ten- 
dencies to  believe.  All  that  reasoning  can  ac- 
complish is  to  bring  back  our  reason  to  some 
ground  of  trust.  There  can  be  no  valid  chain 
of  reasoning  which  is  not  attached  to  some 
instinctive  belief,  something  which  we  take 
for  granted.  This  something  may  be  super- 
ficial or  it  may  be  fundamental ;  it  may  be 
some  prejudice,  some  hereditary  or  current 
belief,  or  again,  it  may  be  some  ultimate  fact 
of  life. 

Reasoning  consists  in  connecting  a  given 
proposition  with  what  we  actually  believe. 
Every  argument  involves  two  kinds  of  assump- 
tion, that  is,  things  which  cannot  be  proved  : 
first,  the  relation  between  the  major  and  the 
minor  premise ;  and  second,  the  relation  between 
the  premises  and  the  conclusion.  One  is  the 
connection,  the  other  the  ultimate  basis,  of  the 
proposition.  The  relation  between  the  prem- 
ises is  taken  for  granted  or  is  seen  directly. 
We  say  in  such  a  case  that  we  see  that  it  is 
true  ;  but  this  is  not  a  primary  perception,  it 
is  only  the  absolute  certainty  of  a  relation,  and 


REASON  147 

that  is  always  secondary.  We  have  a  feeling 
of  absolute  certainty  ;  then  the  intellect  and 
the  feeling  are  united. 

Reason  as  distinct  from  reasoning  is  the 
final  point  in  which  we  rest.  Reasonableness, 
however,  may  be  of  various  kinds.  It  may  con- 
form either  to  previous  experience  or  to  funda- 
mental ideas  of  the  reason.  This  may  appear 
to  take  away  the  basis  of  certainty.  But,  as 
I  have  said  in  referring  to  Nietzsche's  theory, 
what  we  cannot  help  believing  it  is  idle  to 
talk  about.  Can  we  doubt  the  law  of  contra- 
diction? We  simply  cannot  believe  that  one 
thing  can  be  where  another  thing  is  in  the  same 
time  and  in  the  same  sense.  There  are  differ- 
ent layers  of  certainty  or  belief.  Some  have 
come  from  prejudice,  *some  are  the  common 
beliefs  in  which  we  have  been  educated.  Cer- 
tain things  are  taken  for  granted  which  become 
the  basis  of  our  reasoning.  Behind  these 
beliefs  are  the  ideas  of  the  reason.  This  may 
seem  to  introduce  laxity  into  our  thought,  but 
it  is  by  this  method  that  the  world  moves.  If 
every  one  had  to  begin  for  himself  and  settle 
everything  afresh,  the  world  would  make  little 


148  INHERITED   BELIEFS 

progress.  There  is,  however,  a  great  body  of 
beliefs  in  which  we  are  educated,  which  is  the 
bequest  of  the  ages.  This  body  of  beliefs 
gives  us  more  truth  than  we  should  have  with- 
out it.  It  does  not  follow,  of  course,  that  we 
are  to  take  for  granted  all  that  we  hear  or  all 
the  beliefs  that  we  find.  Some  we  cannot  help 
taking  for  granted,  and  some  we  cannot  help 
questioning ;  but  those  which  we  question 
form  only  a  small  portion  of  what  has  come 
to  us.  Our  most  revolutionary  thinkers  have 
touched  very  little  of  the  great  body  of  beliefs 
which  men  take  for  granted.  Christianity 
seemed  a  revolution  ;  but  the  thoughts  and 
customs  of  the  world  closed  in  upon  it,  and 
although  a  new  and  mighty  element  was  intro- 
duced, only  a  small  fraction  of  the  whole  ideal 
content  of  the  world  was  changed. 

As  the  reason  is  the  final  point  in  which  we 
rest,  so  it  is  the  ultimate  basis  of  belief.  Men 
speak  sometimes  of  innate  ideas  as  though  they 
were  in  some  way  tacked  on  to  men  at  the 
outset,  a  sort  of  tag.  Some  philosophers 
assume  them,  Locke  and  others  deny  them.  In 
fact,  however,  innate  ideas  come  to  us  through 


THE  IDEAS  OF  THE  REASON  INNATE       149 

instinct.  We  cannot  help  thinking  or  be- 
lieving certain  things.  We  recognize  thus  as 
innate  the  three  ideas  of  the  reason  —  truth, 
goodness,  and  beauty.  Later,  we  shall  find 
that,  of  these,  goodness  and  beauty  are  really 
manifestations  of  truth,  so  that  ultimately  we 
have  this  one  innate  idea,  the  first  idea  of  the 
reason. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  IDEAS  OF  THE  REASON  AS  SUPERNATU- 
RAL—  THE  BELIEF  IN  UNITY  INSTINCTIVE: 
CONSIDERATION  OF  THE  THEORIES  OF  HUME 
AND  MILL  —  THE  SUPERNATURAL  CHARAC- 
TER OF  THE  MORAL  LAW 

WE  have  found  that  religion  is  the  feeling 
toward  the  supernatural.  We  have  also  found 
that  the  icLeas  of  the  reason  are  involved  in 
religious  feeling.  These  ideas,  then,  should 
partake  of  the  supernatural;  it  should  appear 
that  they  are  not  the  result  of  experience, 
but  underlie  experience  and  make  it  possible. 
Take  the  first  idea  of  the  reason,  truth.  I 
have  said  that  truth  is  synonymous  with 
unity.  How  shall  we  justify  this  statement  ? 
We  must  ask  ourselves  what  we  mean  by 
truth.  We  use  the  word  in  various  signifi- 
cations. We  say  that  a  proposition  is  true 
when  it  corresponds  to  external  facts.  Sub- 
jectively, truth  is  harmony  between  my 
150 


DEFINITION    OF    TRUTH  151 

thought  and  what  is  going  on  outside.  We 
have  the  objective  use  also ;  we  speak  of  a 
true  man,  one  who  conforms  to  the  ideal  of 
a  man.  Again,  we  hear  a  story,  and  we  wish 
to  know  the  truth  of  it.  We  talk  about 
seeking  the  truth  ;  what  is  it  that  we  seek  ? 
Here  is  a  fact ;  the  truth  cannot  be  simply 
the  existence  of  this  particular  phenomenon  ; 
the  truth  must  be  the  relation  of  this  object  or  * 
phenomenon  to  other  objects  and  phenomena. 

When  we  first  see  an  object  it  seems  to 
stand  apart,  and  what  we  try  to  do  is  to 
bring  it  into  relation  with  other  objects. 
Every  one  lives  in  relation  to  an  organized 
world  of  thought.  Our  first  effort  with 
something  which  is  new  to  us  is  to  bring 
it  into  relation  with  our  world  of  previous 
experience,  and  anything  which  we  cannot 
bring  into  such  relation  either  startles  us  or 
else  makes  no  impression  at  all.  We  accept 
nothing  for  which  there  is  not  some  niche 
ready  in  our  minds.  (If  we  knew  the  abso- 
lute truth,  we  should  see  the  universe  as  a 
great  organic  whole,  the  manifestation  of  a 
principle  in  and  through  which  all  things  exist. 


152  TRUTH   IMPLIES    UNITY 

"  Flower  in  the  crannied  wall, 

I  pluck  you  out  of  the  crannies ;  — 
Hold  you  here,  root  and  all,  in  my  hand, 
Little  flower  —  but  if  I  could  understand 
What  you  are,  root  and  all,  and  all  in  all, 
I  should  know  what  God  and  man  is."  l 

The  idea  of  truth  thus  shows  itself  as  the 
ideal  unity  in  and  through  which  all  things 
exist,  and  it  is  obvious  that  there  is  no  forcing 
of  terms  in  our  use  of  truth  and  unity  as 
synonymous. 

Subjectively,  an  idea  which  is  true  stands  in 
connection  with  some  external  fact.  Truth 
here  implies  unity.  If  we  say  that  a  thought 
is  not  true,  does  it  then  stand  alone?  No, 
we  unite  it  with  the  psychological  world ;  every 
error  as  well  as  every  truth  has  its  place  in 
the  psychological  development  of  the  indi- 
vidual ;  it  is  nothing  isolated ;  and  if  we  could 
see  all  as  it  is,  we  should  see  this  psychologi- 
cal world  related  in  some  way  to  the  rest  of 
the  world.  So  far  as  objective  truth  is  con- 
cerned, we  find  it  in  our  definition  of  the 
supernatural.  Nature  we  found  to  be  the 

1  Alfred  Tennyson,  "  Miscellaneous  Poems,"  "  Flower  in 
the  Crannied  Wall." 


IDEA    OF    UNITY   SPONTANEOUS  153 

world  considered  as  a  composite  whole.  The 
supernatural,  while  it  might  be  the  power 
which  interfered  with  the  mutual  relations  of 
the  elements  in  this  composite  whole,  was 
also  the  unity  in  and  through  which  all  the 
elements  had  their  existence. 

The  idea  of  unity  is  spontaneous  in  the 
mind  itself.  This  appears  under  two  aspects. 
First,  a  priori,  we  find  the  idea  of  unity 
implicit  in  all  intellectual  activity.  Here  we 
come  back  to  instinct.  By  instinct,  as  we 
have  seen,  the  organism  acts  as  it  would  if 
it  knew  something  which  it  does  not  know. 
Thought  at  first  is  purely  instinctive.  We 
have  an  instinct  to  think  just  as  the  animal 
has  an  instinct  to  react.  This  instinct  to 
think  is  the  primary  response  of  man  to  his 
environment.  Now,  thinking  is  the  process 
of  forming  concepts,  and  every  concept  in- 
volves two  aspects,  a  universal  and  a  limiting 
element;  every  concept  is  a  limiting  uni- 
versal ; l  an  absolute  universal  cannot  be  con- 
ceived. The  process  of  thought  consists  in 

1  C.  C.  Everett,  "  Science  of  Thought,"  Bk.  II,  "  Con- 
ception and  Terms." 


154  UNITY    UNIVERSALLY   ASSUMED 

bringing  the  object  of  thought  into  relation 
with  something  else;  no  element  can  be  con- 
ceived by  itself.  Whenever  we  wish  to 
understand  something  new,  we  bring  the  new 
object  into  relation  with  the  world  of  thought 
and  experience  which  is  already  ours.  This 
we  call  apperception.  It  is,  as  I  have  just 
said,  instinctive  at  first.  We  make  no  state- 
ment in  regard  to  unity;  we  simply  assume, 
as  soon  as  we  ask  the  question  how  or  why, 
as  soon  as  we  begin  to  think,  that  there  is  a 
relation  between  each  new  element  and  our 
intellectual  or  experiential  world.  The  sav- 
age makes  no  universal  statement;  but  he 
assumes  the  fact  that  every  experience  belongs 
to  the  world  in  which  he  lives.  He  does 
not  say  explicitly  with  Tennyson  that  if  he 
wholly  understood  the  flower  in  the  crannied 
wall  he  would  know  God ;  but  he  does  as- 
sume unity  in  every  direction.  His  assump- 
tion that  a  particular  object  or  element  has 
its  place  in  the  world  carries  with  it  implicitly 
the  fact  that  everything  has  this  relation. 
He  is  like  the  farmer  who  said  he  never 
wanted  much  land,  but  always  did  want  the 


INDUCTION   RESTS    UPON    UNITY  155 

land  next  to  his.  So  the  savage  desires  to 
annex  one  thing  after  another  to  his  intel- 
lectual world,  and  thus  begins  a  progress  into 
the  infinite.  He  thinks  exactly  as  he  would 
if  he  could  see  all  and  know  that  there  was 
absolute  unity ;  he  does  not  know,  but  he  acts 
as  though  he  knew.  This,  then,  is  what  we 
mean  by  saying  that  the  idea  of  unity  is 
instinctive,  implicit,  in  all  human  thought. 

When  we  attempt  to  reach  the  idea  of  unity 
by  an  a  posteriori  process  we  find  ourselves  in- 
volved in  a  contradiction.  Induction  rests 
upon  or  implies  the  idea  of  unity ;  but  the 
idea  of  unity,  the  thought  of  the  world  as  an 
organic  whole,  can  never  be  reached  by  any 
inductive  process.  We  say,  after  a  few  trials, 
that  gold  is  heavier  than  water ;  we  trust  our 
induction  because  of  our  faith  in  the  unity  of 
things.  We  apply  the  law  of  gravitation  to 
the  universe ;  we  have  studied  only  a  few 
worlds  ;  we  leap  from  a  generalization  to  a 
universal  assumption.  It  is  not  the  process 
of  induction  which  has  given  us  knowledge  of 
the  unity  of  things  ;  it  is  once  more  the  un- 
derlying faith  in  that  unity  which  has  made 


156  INDUCTION  RESTS  UPON    UNITY 

possible  this  leap  to  the  universal  assumption. 
Hume  holds  that  if  we  knew  all  that  ever  has 
happened  in  the  world,  the  regularity  and  uni- 
formity of  events,  their  sequence,  and  all  the 
phenomena  connected  with  them,  we  should 
still  have  no  logical  reason  for  a  belief  in  their 
continuance  even  for  the  next  minute.  Induc- 
tion cannot  go  beyond  generalization,  and 
generalization,  strictly  speaking,  is  the  recog- 
nition of  uniformity  within  the  range  of  actual 
experience.1  The  atmosphere  in  which  we  pass 
from  generalizations  to  universal  affirmations, 
the  atmosphere  which  supports  the  wings  of 
our  thought  as  it  soars  beyond  the  world  of 
experience,  is  this  instinctive  faith  in  the  unity 
of  things. 

All  induction  by  which  science  arrives  at 
the  idea  of  the  unity  of  the  world  depends 
upon  an  unconscious  assumption  of  that  unity. 
Further,  the  most  absolute  recognition  of  the 
unity  of  the  world  comes  before  the  beginnings 
of  scientific  induction.  In  the  Upanishads, 
the  earliest  expression  of  philosophic  thought, 

!C.  C.  Everett,  "Science  of  Thought,"  Bk.  II,  B,  b, 
"  Generalization." 


MOZLEY   AND    TYNDALL    ON   MIRACLES     157 

we  find  the  conception  of  the  absolute  unity 
of  the  world  ;  yet  all  these  facts  on  which 
science  now  affirms  that  unity  depends  are 
disregarded,  the  whole  world  of  what  we  call 
reality  is  denied,  and  unity  is  reached  without 
any  external  basis  for  belief.  We  find  essen- 
tially the  same  position,  similarly  gained,  in 
the  Eleatic  philosophy  ;  again  the  manifold  is 
denied,  and  unity  is  held  to  be  the  one  abso- 
lute reality.  The  great  service  rendered  by 
the  development  of  science  is  that  it  tends  to 
bring  to  consciousness  this  idea  of  the  unity 
of  the  world,  so  that  it  can  be  expressed  in 
general  propositions  and  receive  popular  recog- 
nition. 

To  see  how  easily  one  may  blunder  here,  we 
have  only  to  consider  the  discussion  between 
Tyndall  and  Mozley  in  regard  to  the  credi- 
bility of  miracles.1  In  this  discussion  Mozley 
takes  the  ground  that  the  argument  against 
a  miracle,  that  it  does  not  conform  to  the  ex- 
perience of  the  world,  is  not  conclusive ;  expe- 
rience, he  holds,  furnishes  no  logical  ground 

1  James  B.  Mozley,  "On  Miracles";  John  Tyndall, 
"Fragments  of  Science  for  Unscientific  People,"  p.  67. 


158      MOZLEY   AND    TYNDALL    ON   MIRACLES 

for  believing  anything,  and  if  a  miracle  does 
not  correspond  to  experience,  that  is  no  reason 
for  disbelieving  it.  Tyndall  replies  that  by 
trusting  experience  much  has  been  discovered, 
and  appeals  to  experience  to  show  that  infer- 
ence from  experience  is  rational.  Tyndall 
falls  into  a  curious  logical  circle  in  thus  at- 
tempting to  make  experience  indorse,  so  to 
speak,  its  own  note  ;  and  we  are  so  much  in 
the  habit  of  trusting  experience  ourselves  that 
we  do  not  easily  recognize  the  fallacy  in  his 
argument.  Mozley  also  reasons  in  a  circle  ; 
the  miracles  are  authenticated,  he  says,  and 
thus  he  uses  evidence  as  a  basis  for  belief. 
But  if  we  cannot  trust  to  experience,  we  can- 
not any  more  trust  to  evidence.  Practically, 
Mozley  was  wrong,  and  Tyndall  was  right. 
There  is  no  objection  to  our  trusting  experi- 
ence. This,  however,  is  not  because  experi- 
ence of  the  past  in  itself  warrants  assumption 
for  the  future,  but  because  underlying  all  our 
thinking  is  the  idea  of  unity,  and  one  form  of 
this  conception  of  unity  appears  in  the  assump- 
tion which  we  make,  that  there  can  be  no  vio- 
lent break  in  experience  by  which  one  epoch 


THE   PHILOSOPHY   OF   HUME  159 

of  the  world  should  have  no  connection  with 
another. 

In  speaking  of  the  process  of  induction  as 
related  to  the  thought  of  unity,  I  have  re- 
ferred to  the  position  taken  by  Hume.  The  \ 
study  of  Hume  is  good  for  the  correction  of 
many  assumptions  of  the  present  time.  Writ- 
ing  clearly  and  honestly,  he  undertakes'  to 
construct  a  philosophy  which  shall  take  no 
account  of  ideal  elements,  but  base  itself 
wholly  upon  the  understanding.  He  finds 
two  elements  in  thought  :  impressions,  which 
are  the  direct  relation  of  the  individual  to  the 
external  world  through  the  feelings  -and  the 
senses ;  and  ideas,  which  are  the  abstractions 
of  these  impressions.  Impressions  are  more  \ 
distinct  than  ideas  ;  the  sight  of  a  tree  is  more 
distinct  than  the  thought  of  a  tree.  We  must  \ 
not  be  misled  by  the  term  "  impression "  ;  as 
used  by  Hume  it  represents,  not  simply  the 
action  of  something  upon  the  mind  from  with- 
out, but  the  fact  of  perception.  Hume,  then, 
recognizes  these  two  elements  in  thought,  and 
these  alone,  and  then  insists  that  there  is  noth- 
ing in  the  realm  of  ideas  which  does  not  come 


160  HUME'S    THEORY    OF   BELIEF 

from  the  world  of  impressions.  Thus  he  con- 
structs the  world  without  the  ideas  of  the 
reason.  Ideas  are  faint  images ;  complex 
ideas  are  made  out  of  single  ideas.  What 
difference  is  there,  we  may  ask,  according  to 
this  position,  between  that  which  we  believe, 
and  that  which  we  do  not  believe?  Belief, 
Hume  answers,1  is  the  conception  of  an  object 
more  lively,  more  forcible,  more  vivid,  than 
the  imagination  alone  can  attain.  This  vivid- 
ness of  conception  results  from  association. 
We  associate  A  with  B  so  often  that  when  A 
is  seen  B  is  suggested  so  strongly  that  we  have 
the  condition  of  belief  ;  without  any  abstract 
theory  in  regard  to  it,  the  burned  child  dreads 
the  fire.  Vividness  of  conception  is  thus  not 
merely  the  cause  of  belief,  but  in  itself  consti- 
tutes belief. 

But  are  there  not  cases  where  that  which  we 
believe  is  less  vivid  than  what  we  disbelieve  ? 
Our  belief  that  the  earth  revolves  around  the 
sun  is  not  so  vivid  as  the  apparent  fact  that  the 
sun  sinks  below  the  western  horizon;  yet  we 
brush  away  the  vividness  of  the  sunset,  and 
i»  Works,"  Vol.  IV,  p.  56. 


HUME'S    THEORY   OF    CAUSATION  161 

believe  that  which  we  have  not  experienced, 
that  of  which  we  have  merely  heard  or  read. 
Often,  too,  where  we  have  a  vivid  impression 
that  something  has  occurred,  and  then  find  that 
the  occurrence  did  not  take  place,  with  the 
abandonment  of  our  belief  the  vividness  of 
the  impression  also  passes.  So  far  from  belief 
depending  upon  vividness,  vividness  depends 
rather  upon  belief. 

All  this  shows  that  belief  is  something  more 
than  the  vividness  of  an  impression ;  but  what 
it  is  we  cannot  say.  We  can  say,  however, 
what  we  mean  by  it.  We  mean  the  recogni- 
tion of  the  object  of  belief  as  having  its  place 
in  the  great,  united  whole.  No  external  test 
of  belief  or  unbelief  can  be  found.  We  rec- 
ognize belief  as  we  recognize  any  other  inner 
element  of  the  mind. 

According  to  Hume,  once  more,  our  belief 
in  the  law  of  causation  is  founded  on  habit. 
Causation,  he  says,  is  simply  unvarying  se- 
quence. B  so  regularly  follows  A  that  when 
A  occurs  we  look  necessarily  for  B,  and  if  B 
does  not  occur  as  we  expect,  it  is  because  some 
other  element  has  interfered.  But  one  objects 


162  CRITICISM   OF  HUMtfS    THEORY 

that  there  are  so  many  cases  of  invariable 
sequence  where  no  causation  can  be  recognized. 
Thus  day  follows  night,  and  night  day,  but  no 
one  supposes  that  either  is  the  cause  of  the 
other.  Mill1  here  adds  a  word.  The  term 
"unconditional,"  he  says,  should  be  added. 
Unconditional  sequence  is  causation.  The  day 
does  not  follow  the  night  unconditionally  ;  the 
sun  must  rise,  for  instance.  But  as  soon  as  a 
condition  is  shown  we  distinguish  between  that 
which  is  cause  and  that  which  is  not  cause. 

If  we  accept  Hume's  idea  of  belief,  that  it  is 
vividness  of  conception,  and  that  belief  in  cau- 
sation is  the  result  of  association,  neither  the 
objection  nor  Mill's  "  unconditional  sequence  " 
meets  the  case.  According  to  Hume,  day  and 
night  should  be  regarded  as  the  cause  one  of 
the  other  ;  they  give  the  association  of  ideas, 
the  invariable  sequence,  which  with  Hume 
stands  for  causation.  What  he  means  by  cau- 
sation, however,  is  not  what  we  mean  by  it. 
We  do  not  mean  a  simple  sequence,  an  external 
relation.  If  this  were  all,  then  we  should  have 
no  reality  of  connection  between  the  past  and 
1  "Logic,"  p.  203. 


CRITICISM    OF   HUME'S    THEORY  163 

the  present,  no  real  union  between  past,  pres- 
ent, and  future,  no  continuity  in  the  world;  we 
should  have  no  more  relation  between  things 
than  is  found  in  a  heap  of  sand.  What  we 
mean  by  causation  is  that  there  is  some  inner 
relation  between  what  we  call  cause  and  what 
we  call  effect,  that  the  present  is  the  product  of 
the  past  because  of  an  inner  bond;  that  the 
world  has  unity  so  that  nothing  in  it  exists  by 
itself  and  for  itself.  Causation  is  a  form  under 
which  we  recognize  again  the  unity  of  the 
world,  a  unity  underlying  all  the  processes  of 
our  thought,  and  not  the  result  of  any  of  them. 
We  seek  for  a  cause  for  everything.  We  may 
admit  a  formal  freedom  of  the  will ;  yet  we 
seek  for  the  cause  of  the  man's  action.  We 
do  not  ask,  "  Is  the  savage,  or  am  I,  conscious 
of  a  belief  in  the  unity  of  the  world  ?  "  but, 
"Does  he  or  do  I  manifest  such  a  belief  in 
daily  life  ? "  And  every  time  that  we  seek 
for  a  cause,  faith  in  the  unity  of  the  world  is 
manifested. 

According  to  Mill,1  belief   in   the   unity  of 
the  world  was  first  reached  by  reasoning,  the 

i  "Logic,11  pp.  339,  184. 


164  GROUND    OF   BELIEF  IN  UNITY 

process  of  induction,  and  then  the  belief 
thus  reached  was  used  in  turn  as  a  basis  for 
further  reasoning,  the  process  of  deduction. 
But  I  have  tried  to  make  it  clear  that  in- 
stead of  being  the  result  of  induction,  this 
belief  is  the  basis  of  all  induction.  The  first 
idea  of  the  reason  is  not  reached  either  by 
induction  or  by  deduction.  It  is  supernatural. 
It  is  that  in  which  the  natural,  the  composite 
world,  lives  and  moves  and  has  its  being. 

Ultimate  truth  cannot  be  proved.  What 
reason  have  we,  then,  for  believing  in  a  unity 
which  cannot  be  proved  by  induction?  The 
only  answer  is  that  we  cannot  help  believing 
in  it.  We  cannot  think  of  causation  without 
thinking  of  unity,  we  cannot  make  large  gen- 
eralizations without  going  beyond  them  to 
universal  assumptions.  We  receive  a  new 
thought,  and  we  must  at  once  bring  it  into 
relation  with  all  our  former  experience.  But 
no  chain  can  support  anything  unless  it  is 
attached  to  something ;  an  endless  chain  of 
reasoning  is  powerless,  and  we  cannot  help 
recognizing  unity  as  that  to  which  all  reason- 
ing ultimately  attaches  itself.  If  it  is  said 


UNITY   RECOGNIZED    IN  EARLY  RELIGION     165 

that  we  cannot  believe  it  because  we  cannot 
prove  it,  then  we  must  face  this  situation, 
that  we  cannot  get  on  without  believing  it, 
because  it  is  involved  in  our  every  thought. 

In  early  religion  we  meet  phenomena 
which  seem  at  first  to  exclude  the  idea  of 
the  unity  of  the  world.  In  place  of  the 
universality  of  law  we  find  the  spontaneity 
of  spiritual  activities.  The  savage,  in  case 
of  sickness,  asks  not  what  has  caused  it,  the 
modern  question,  but  who  has  caused  it,  what 
witch,  what  enemy,  what  ghost.  Thus  the 
idea  of  unity  seems  broken  up.  As  we  look 
more  closely,  however,  we  find  still  the  affir- 
mation of  unity,  only  under  a  different  form. 
One  type  of  unity  is  that  of  the  spiritual  life. 
Now  no  more  striking  recognition  of  this 
unity  is  found  than  that  which  is  manifested 
in  the  primitive  religions.  The  savage  under- 
stands the  motives  which  appeal  to  his  own 
will,  and  by  a  great  generalization  he  as- 
sumes that  what  takes  place  in  his  own  con- 
sciousness is  the  type  of  that  which  happens 
outside  of  him  and  everywhere.  This  is  as 
great  a  step,  as  bold  and  as  real,  as  that 


166  THE   HIGHER    SPIRITUAL    UNITY 

which  Schopenhauer  takes  when  he  reasons 
from  the  consciousness  of  his  own  will  to 
the  thought  of  the  universal  will.  The 
physical  type  of  unity  recognized  by  modern 
science  is  the  universality  of  physical  law. 
Science  holds  that  until  this  was  shown  there 
was  no  recognition  of  unity.  Yet  in  a  sense 
the  view  of  the  savage  was  more  compre- 
hensive than  that  of  the  modern  scientist. 
For  the  savage  could  find  a  place  for  all 
that  occurred  in  the  world,  he  had  no  diffi- 
culty in  understanding  the  world  as  con- 
trolled; but  materialistic  science  finds  little 
or  no  place  for  spiritual  phenomena.  Mate- 
rial science,  therefore,  has  no  right  to  say 
that  before  its  day  the  unity  of  the  world 
was  not  recognized. 

There  is  a  higher  type  of  unity  in  which 
the  results  of  both  these  types  are  united. 
In  the  early  spiritual  life  there  was  much 
caprice.  This  higher  type  manifests  the 
same  majesty  and  order  that  are  shown  in 
the  physical  type.  All  caprice  is  eliminated, 
and  yet  the  unity  is  spiritual.  We  have  a 
spiritual  unity  with  the  sublime  orderliness 


NORMAL    MYSTICISM  167 

of  the  physical  world,  but  embracing  the 
physical  world  within  itself.  This  is  the 
unity  of  monotheistic  religion  when  it  reaches 
its  highest  development.  The  caprice  which 
was  apparent  in  the  lower  divinities  would 
result  naturally  from  the  limited  nature 
of  those  divinities,  just  as  the  limited  nature 
of  a  man  makes  him  capricious.  Given  the 
Absolute  Spirit,  and  the  element  of  caprice 
as  naturally  and  necessarily  disappears. 

This  highest  spiritual  unity  manifests  itself 
under  two  aspects :  first,  externally,  as  the 
creator  of  the  world ;  and  secondly,  and  more 
profoundly,  when  it  is  conceived  as  immanent 
in  the  world.  I  have  already  spoken  of  this 
immanent  spiritual  unity.  We  find  it  mani- 
fested in  religious  mysticism.  This  mysti- 
cism, when  normal,  consists  in  the  recognition 
of  a  certain  community  between  the  individ- 
ual and  the  universe,  between  the  finite  spirit 
and  the  infinite  spirit.  It  is  manifested  most 
profoundly  in  the  doctrine  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 
which  implies  the  interpenetration  of  the 
individual  by  the  absolute  spirit.  In  its 
abnormal  form  mysticism  falls  easily  into 


168  ABNORMAL    MYSTICISM 

pantheism.  God  is  absorbed  into  the  uni- 
verse. The  universal  spirit  has  no  con- 
sciousness, and,  strictly  speaking,  human 
individuality  is  lost.  Unity  becomes  exclu- 
sive, and  the  understanding  has  no  place. 
In  such  abnormal  mysticism  the  individual 
sometimes  thinks  it  unnecessary  to  follow  the 
laws  of  thought ;  he  believes  that  he  has 
direct  intuitions  of  the  truth.  Conceiving 
himself  to  be  a  manifestation  of  the  universal 
life,  he  thinks  that  he  can  arrive  at  the  struc- 
ture of  the  universe,  as  truth  in  general,  by 
consciousness.  But  this  is  lawless  thought, 
dreaming  and  not  reasoning,  the  work  of  the 
fanciful  mind.  If  the  man  is  a  man  of  genius, 
there  will  be,  it  is  true,  flashes  of  valuable 
thought,  and  some  of  the  mystics  of  this 
sort  have  shown  marvellous  insight  into  spir- 
itual things.  Many  of  their  intuitions  are  of 
real  consequence.  Jacob  Bohme,1  for  example, 
is  regarded  by  Hegel  as  holding  an  impor- 
tant place  in  the  religious  world. 

We  do  not  always  distinguish  as  we  ought 

1  Jacob  Bohme,  1576-1624,    "Aurora,"    "Der  Weg  zu 
Christo,"  etc. 


MYSTICISM   AND    PANTHEISM  169 

between  mysticism  and  pantheism.  In  the 
words  themselves  there  is  no  reason  why  they 
should  not  carry  the  same  meaning,  just  as 
there  is  no  reason  why  deism  and  theism 
should  not  mean  the  same ;  only  they  do  not. 
In  mysticism  is  implied  both  the  immanence 
and  the  transcendence  of  the  divine  being  in 
the  universe ;  in  pantheism  only  the  imma- 
nence. We  use  the  term  "  transcendence  "  here 
as  we  should  use  it  in  speaking  of  the  tran- 
scendence of  the  soul  over  the  body.  The 
life  of  a  tree  exhausts  itself  in  the  life  of 
the  tree ;  in  man  there  is  a  life  which  is  not 
exhausted  in  the  life  of  the  body.  The  life 
of  the  tree  may  represent  the  pantheistic  view 
of  the  life  of  the  universe,  whereas  the  tran- 
scending consciousness  in  the  life  of  the  man 
may  represent  the  mystic  view  of  the  con- 
scious divine  life  of  the  universe.  Or,  to 
use  the  illustration  of  the  tree  in  another 
way,  if  the  leaves  could  be  conscious  of  their 
relation  to  the  tree,  they  would  be  to  that 
extent  mystics. 

The  first  idea  of  the   reason  is  incomplete 
alone.    It  is  formal,  positively  formal,  and  lacks 


170  GOODNESS   SUPERNATURAL 

content.  Truth,  or  unity,  is  supernatural,  it  is 
over  against  the  natural  world;  but  nothing 
is  affirmed  of  it,  it  needs  a  more  definite  con- 
tent. We  shall  reach  this  in  part  as  we  pass 
to  the  second  idea  of  the  reason,  goodness. 
Is  this  also  supernatural  ?  Yes,  and  under 
certain  aspects  it  represents  the  supernatural 
in  its  sternest  form.  It  appears  both  as 
negative  and  as  positive.  In  the  same  way 
in  which  the  savage  feels  that  his  little  life 
is  broken  up  by  the  power  of  the  supernatu- 
ral, so  the  moral  law  strikes  into  the  relations 
of  our  life  with  an  interference  which,  when 
really  felt,  admits  no  compromise.  If  the 
principle  of  duty  is  supreme  in  a  man,  noth- 
ing else  has  any  value  in  comparison.  No 
wars  are  so  bloody  as  those  fought  for 
some  principle  of  ethics  or  of  faith.  Nations 
and  individuals  alike  feel  the  overturning 
and  compelling  force  of  the  moral  law.  The 
story  of  Mendelssohn  is  a  type  of  what  takes 
place  again  and  again.  Here  is  a  man  living 
where  he  desires  to  live,  with  the  various 
advantages  which  he  covets  for  himself  and 
for  his  family ;  but  he  is  receiving  a  salary 


STERNNESS    OF    THE    MORAL    LAW          171 

from  the  government  which  he  is  doing  noth- 
ing to  earn ;  he  feels  that  this  is  wrong,  and 
because  of  the  sense  of  duty  he  makes  up  his 
mind  to  leave  the  place  where  he  would  like  to 
remain,  and  go  where  he  does  not  want  to  go. 

Some  men  fail  to  recognize  this  imperative 
sternness  of  the  moral  law  until  they  have 
offended  against  it.  It  is  thus  that  men,  who 
have  continued  in  wrong-doing  so  long  as 
they  came  into  no  collision  with  this  force  of 
goodness,  are  led  through  collision  with  it 
into  repentance.  There  is  a  saying  that  a 
good  deal  of  crime  is  committed  because  of  a 
lack  of  imagination.  The  man  plans  his 
crime,  a  murder  perhaps,  but  cannot  picture 
to  himself  beforehand  what  his  feelings  will 
be,  and  what  the  condition  of  things,  in  the 
moment  after  the  crime  is  committed.  One 
aspect  of  this  is  brought  out  by  Browning  in 
"Before"  and  "After."1  The  criminal  sees 
all  the  natural  elements  in  the  situation ;  but 
what  he  fails  to  anticipate  is  the  horror 
which  follows  the  deed,  as  he  comes  into 
relation  with  the  unexpected. 

1  "  Dramatic  Lyrics." 


172       BENEFICENCE    OF    THE    MORAL    LAW 

There  is,  however,  a  positive  side  also ; 
the  moral  law  is  beneficent  as  well  as  stern. 
There  is  a  certain  satisfaction  in  the  perform- 
ance of  duty,  not  a  sense  of  pride  —  for  who 
would  feel  pride  because  he  had  done  some- 
thing where  failure  to  do  it  would  have  been 
meanness  ?  —  but  a  natural  pleasure,  rising, 
sometimes  to  a  holy  joy,  that  one  should  have 
been  the  instrument  in  the  accomplishment  of 
good.  A  deep  humility  may  accompany  such 
approval  of  the  conscience;  but,  as  we  have 
seen,  the  self-related  feelings  have  their  place 
in  the  highest  life,  and  true  love  for  others 
not  only  does  not  forbid,  but  implies,  a  certain 
degree  of  self-love. 


CHAPTER   XI 

THE  THEORIES  OF  A  NATURAL  BASIS  FOR 
THE  MORAL  LAW  :  UTILITARIANISM  ;  THE 
THEORY  OF  DARWIN  —  THE  BASIS  OF  THE 
MORAL  LAW  FOUND  IN  THE  PRINCIPLE  OF 
UNITY  AS  MANIFESTED  IN  THE  SOCIAL  OR- 
DER—  THE  RELATION  BETWEEN  MORALITY 
AND  RELIGION 

ATTEMPTS  have  been  made  to  find  a  natural 
basis  for  the  moral  law.  Of  these  the  theory 
of  utilitarianism  is  best  known.  A  thing  is 
right  because  some  good  is  done  in  some  way 
to  oneself  or  to  others.  But  suppose  I  recog- 
nize that  an  act  of  mine  will  bring  harm  to 
others,  but  good  to  me,  why,  in  such  a  case, 
should  I  try  to  do  good  to  others?  This 
question  the  older,  cruder  utilitarianism  did 
not  answer.  Mill  recognized  the  difficulty, 
but  did  not  attempt  to  meet  it.  Utilitarian- 
ism may  furnish  a  measure  for  what  is  good  ; 
it  does  not  furnish  the  underlying  impulse  to 
173 


174  UTILITARIANISM 

goodness.  It  assumes  that  right  is  that  which 
is  for  the  highest  good  of  the  world ;  "  hon- 
esty is  the  best  policy  ; "  righteousness  is 
determined  by  happiness.  As  a  practical  rule 
for  conduct  it  is  clumsy.  Many  moral  judg- 
ments demand  quick  discernment.  Instinctive 
obedience  is  needed.  On  shipboard  everything 
is  done  for  the  success  of  the  voyage;  but 
the  individual  sailor  obeys,  not  because  he  has 
this  in  mind,  but  because  he  is  commanded. 
If  we  were  always  calculating  the  precise 
outcome  of  each  act,  we  might  do  wrong  or 
we  might  fail  to  do  anything. 

So  far  as  the  applicability  of  the  theory  is 
concerned,  a  great  step  in  advance  is  taken 
when  we  come  to  Spencer's  statement1  that 
the  moral  sense  is  the  result  of  the  utilities 
of  past  generations,  an  inherited  recognition 
of  utility  by  which  a  man  acts  instinctively  ; 
utility  is  so  repeatedly  and  constantly  ham- 
mered into  the  nature  that  it  becomes  auto- 
matic. Of  course,  if  we  hold  Weismann's2 

1  "Data  of  Ethics." 

2  August  Weismann,  "  Essays  upon  Heredity  and  Kindred 
Biological  Problems." 

I 


SPENCER'S    STATEMENT  175 

view,  that  acquired  characteristics  cannot  be 
inherited,  this  theory  falls  to  the  ground.  In 
any  case  there  are  difficulties  in  the  way  of 
accepting  it.  If  we  ask  how  have  the  utili- 
ties been  impressed,  we  are  told  "through 
civil  law,  through  religious  commandment, 
through  parental  instruction."  This  answer, 
however,  is  based  in  part  on  a  misapprehen- 
sion, for  in  the  early  forms  of  religion  we 
find  comparatively  little  account  made  of 
what  we  call  morality.  The  people  had  their 
morality,  that  is,  they  had  the  manners  and 
customs  of  their  time  ;  but  this  is  not  what 
we  mean  by  morality.  Perhaps,  to  avoid 
confusion,  we  had  better  use  the  term  "altru- 
istic virtue"  instead  of  morality.  It  is  mo- 
rality in  this  sense  which  has  so  little  place 
in  the  earlier  forms  of  religion.  What  they 
made  prominent  was  sacrifice,  ritual,  etc. 
Even  in  the  thought  of  a  future  life,  it  was 
not  his  altruistic  virtue  while  living  which 
determined  whether  a  man  was  to  be  happy 
or  not  after  death,  but  the  performance  or 
non-performance  of  certain  rites. 

Besides  the  ritual  in  the  lower  forms  of  reli- 


176  CRITICISM    OF   SPENCER 

gion,  we  have  the  taboo,  which  has  no  moral 
significance,  but  which  affected  the  individual 
without  regard  to  his  own  wish  and  intention. 
Thus  CEdipus  becomes  impure  through  taboo, 
though  wholly  innocent  so  far  as  his  own  moral 
and  spiritual  life  is  concerned. 

No,  obedience  and  order  grew  out  of  reli- 
gious culture,  submission  also ;  but  not  the 
moral  sense,  the  impulse  to  righteousness. 
This  existed  before  its  recognition  in  religion 
and  law,  and  during  much  of  its  growth  moved 
in  advance  of  them.  Religion  and  morality 
develop  from  different  centres  at  the  outset. 
Only  later,  when  at  length  religion  can  take 
a  more  comprehensive  view,  has  it  enjoined 
morality.  Thus  the  explanation  given  by 
Spencer  does  not  account  for  the  moral  law. 
The  element  of  inheritance  which  he  introduces 
into  the  theory  of  utilitarianism  relieves  it  of 
its  clumsiness  by  disposing  of  reflection  and 
discussion,  and  contributing  something  of  abso- 
luteness and  spontaneity.  But  the  basis  of  the 
moral  law  is  not  reached.  The  cruder  utilita- 
rianism tells  us  neither  what  it  is  that  prompts 
a  man  to  do  right,  nor  why  it  is  that  he  feels 


THE    THEORY   OF   DARWIN  177 

it  his  duty  to  do  right.  Spencer  does  give  an 
answer  to  both  questions,  but  it  is  not  the  final 
answer. 

In  trying  to  find  a  natural  basis  for  the 
moral  law,  appeal  has  also  been  made  to  the 
theory  of  natural  selection.  In  the  "Descent 
of  Man,"  Darwin,  in  his  derivation  of  con- 
science,1 finds  the  answer  to  the  question,  why 
conscience  reproaches  a  man  after  a  wrong 
deed,  in  the  permanence  of  social  instincts  as 
compared  with  the  intermittent  character  of 
selfish  instincts.  The  self-regarding  instincts 
prompt  to  the  gratification  of  a  particular 
need  ;  personal  grief  or  passion  bears  down 
and  violates  the  social  instincts  ;  but  when  the 
passion  has  been  satisfied,  the  social  instincts 
again  assert  themselves,  and  in  the  calm  which 
succeeds  the  man  reproaches  himself  for  having 
violated  them.  The  social  instincts  have  this 
advantage  over  the  self-regarding  instincts, 
that  they  have  always  the  last  word.  Nega- 
tively considered,  the  social  instincts  have  no 
authority  beyond  other  instincts ;  they  owe 
their  authority  simply  to  their  greater  perma- 
iVol.  I,  pp.  86,  87. 

N 


178          DARWIN'S    THEORY  INSUFFICIENT 

nence.     They  are   not   in    themselves   higher ; 
they  merely  hold  out  longer. 

But  will  this  theory  bear  examination? 
Suppose  we  apply  to  it  the  logical  method  of 
difference.  Are  there  any  instincts  which, 
though  they  have  the  last  word,  yet  are  not 
conscience  ?  and  does  conscience  sometimes 
speak  when  it  does  not  have  the  last  word  ? 
Take  the  case  of  a  man  whose  supreme  interest 
is  money.  A  case  of  need  is  presented  to  him, 
and  he  gives  a  little  more  than  he  is  in  the 
habit  of  giving ;  the  altruistic  element,  the 
social  instinct,  asserts  itself  exceptionally  in 
his  life.  When  he  realizes  what  he  has  done, 
the  selfish  instincts  reassert  themselves  and 
make  their  protest,  and  he  reproaches  himself 
for  what  he  considers  his  folly.  Such  self-re- 
proach as  this  is  very  different  from  the  self- 
reproach  which  follows  a  wrong  act.  On  the 
other  hand,  does  the  reproach  of  conscience 
come  in  cases  where  it  is  not  given  the  last 
word  ?  Certainly.  The  king  in  "  Hamlet "  is 
an  example  of  what  we  often  experience.  I  find 
myself  tempted  and  my  moral  sense  protests  ; 
I  recognize  its  dignity  even  though  I  disobey. 


DIRECT   ALTRUISM  179 

The  king  in  "  Hamlet "  feels  that  he  has  done 
wrong  ;  he  tries  to  pray  for  forgiveness,  but 
cannot, 

"  Though  inclination  be  as  sharp  as  will : 
My  stronger  guilt  defeats  my  strong  intent ; 
And,  like  a  man  to  double  business  bound, 
I  stand  in  pause  where  I  shall  first  begin, 
And  both  neglect."  —  Act  iii,  Scene  3. 

At  first  thought  Darwin's  theory  is  plausible  ; 
but  evidently  the  reproach  of  conscience  arises 
from  something  more  than  the  greater  perma- 
nence of  the  social  instincts. 

In  our  examination  of  the  earlier  utilitari- 
anism and  of  Spencer's  theory  of  the  moral 
instinct  as  the  result  of  inheritance,  we  have 
seen  that  there  are  two  questions  with  which 
we  have  to  do  :  first,  why  people  perform  al- 
truistic acts  at  all ;  and  second,  why  they  think 
it  their  duty  to  perform  them.  If  we  consider 
first  the  nature  of  the  impulse  to  altruistic  acts, 
we  find  that  these  acts  are  of  two  kinds,  those 
which  are  directly  and  those  which  are  in- 
directly altruistic.  The  directly  altruistic  are 
performed  with  the  conscious  purpose  of  help- 
ing others ;  we  should  not  perform  them  if  we 


180  INDIRECT   ALTRUISM 

did  not  believe  that  what  we  are  doing  is  to 
benefit  some  one  else.  The  acts  of  indirect 
altruism  are  those  in  which  the  effect  is  not 
considered.  For  example,  why  does  a  man  pay 
a  debt  ?  It  is  not  because  the  other  needs  the 
money  ;  the  creditor  may  be  rich,  and  he  may 
even  have  forgotten  about  the  debt.  Yet  an 
honorable  man  will  pay  every  debt.  He  pays 
on  his  own  account,  for  his  own  sake.  Or  take 
the  case  of  a  man  who  is  returning  home  from 
abroad  and  has  to  make  a  declaration  to  the 
customs  officers  in  regard  to  what  he  is  bring- 
ing with  him.  An  honorable  man  will  make 
a  true  statement.  The  government  may  be 
actually  suffering  because  of  the  surplus  in  its 
revenue ;  you  may  believe  in  free  trade  ;  but 
you  give  a  fair,  honest  account  of  your  goods. 
It  is  because  you  have  respect  for  your  own 
word.  When  a  man  fails  to  meet  these  obliga- 
tions, his  feeling  at  bottom,  if  he  has  any  self- 
respect,  is  one  of  shame  ;  the  positive  side  of 
this  feeling  of  shame  we  may  call  honor.1 
Thus  we  have  two  ethical  principles.  One 

1  C.  C.  Everett,  "  Poetry,  Comedy,  and  Duty,"  III,  "  The 
Ultimate  Facts  of  Ethics." 


HONOR  181 

we  call  direct  altruism;  the  other  is  indirect 
altruism,  or  honor.  Acts  done  from  the  direct 
altruistic  impulse  have  conscious  reference  to 
others;  those  done  from  a  sense  of  honor 
have  reference  to  one's  self.  In  other  words, 
altruism  or  sympathy  is  a  principle  of  self- 
surrender,  honor  is  one  of  self-assertion.  Now, 
there  are  many  kinds  of  self  and  consequently 
many  kinds  of  honor.  There  is  the  personal 
honor  of  the  kind  which  resents  insult,  the 
kind  which  may  resort  to  duelling.  Here 
there  is  no  ethical  value,  except  as  this  sort 
of  self  is  the  only  self  which  the  man  has; 
then,  of  course,  from  his  point  of  view  it  is 
right  for  him  to  defend  it.  The  next  higher 
self  is  found  where  a  man  regards  himself  as 
a  member  of  a  group.  Here  we  have  family 
honor  and  patriotism.  The  circle  of  his  rela- 
tion to  others  continues  to  enlarge,  and  he  is 
jealous  not  only  for  his  family  or  his  country 
but  for  all  men.  Beginning  with  mere  indi- 
vidualism, he  has  passed  on  to  a  larger  self, 
in  which  he  recognizes  that  he  is  a  member 
of  the  race.  As  such  he  resents  for  others 
what  at  first  he  only  resented  for  himself, 


182  THE    SENSE    OF    OBLIGATION 

and  he  is  ashamed  to  allow  in  himself  what 
he  would  object  to  in  another.  No  one  may 
know  of  his  wrong  act;  but  he  is  ashamed 
to  be  a  rotten  timber  in  the  general  fabric  of 
society.  He  will  not  separate  himself  from 
his  kind  by  doing  what  he  condemns  in 
others.  He  arrives  at  this  recognition  of  the 
moral  law,  sometimes  as  he  blames  himself, 
and  then  applies  the  same  blame  to  others, 
and  again  when  he  blames  another  first,  and 
then  applies  the  same  blame  to  himself. 

We  come  next  to  the  sense  of  obligation. 
In  resting  the  moral  sense  on  the  social  rela- 
tions, it  may  seem  that  I  have  given  to  the 
moral  law  a  superficial  basis.  But  this  is  so 
only  as  we  consider  the  social  relations  super- 
ficially. Take  the  principle  of  love.  This 
is  more  than  the  sense  of  duty.  Duty  is  a 
sense  of  obligation  to  do  something  which  if 
we  are  filled  with  love  we  do  naturally.  The 
man  who  provides  for  his  family  from  either 
a  sense  of  honor  or  a  sense  of  duty  has  not 
reached  the  level  of  the  man  who  cares  for 
his  family  because  he  loves  them.  Love,  we 
say,  is  the  basis  of  the  law  and  the  fulfilling 


IMITATIVE    SYMPATHY  183 

of  the  law.  Now  love  is  the  most  mysterious 
thing  in  the  world.  In  it  the  individual 
passes  out  from  himself  and  centres  his  life 
in  another. 

Psychologists  do  not  always  do  full  justice 
to  the  altruistic  feelings.  Spencer,  for  ex- 
ample, finds  the  basis  of  altruism  in  sympathy, 
which  he  describes  only  in  its  lowest  form  as 
an  imitative  feeling.  Thus,  if  we  see  a  per- 
son uncomfortable,  we  feel  uncomfortable  too ; 
if  another  yawns,  we  yawn  ;  in  seeing  another's 
pain,  we  have  a  feeling  of  imitative  pain.  But 
this  sort  of  sympathy  is  centred  wholly  in 
the  individual  himself.  In  altruistic  sympathy 
our  pain  is  not  imitative ;  instead,  we  are  pro- 
foundly moved  by  the  fact  that  another  person 
is  suffering;  the  feeling  of  sorrow  enters. 
Further,  the  effects  of  the  two  kinds  of  sym- 
pathy are  wholly  different.  Imitative  sym- 
pathy, self-regarding  sympathy,  may  cause 
anger,  the  anger  in  such  a  case  arising  from 
our  sense  of  discomfort.  Frances  Power 
Cobbe  tells  a  story  of  two  children,  one  of 
whom  fell  out  of  bed  and  hurt  himself  and 
cried;  the  other  child  flies  at  the  first  and 


184  ALTRUISTIC   SYMPATHY 

beats  him :  the  second  child  is  unhappy, 
and  punishes  the  first  child,  because  of  the 
trouble  he  has  caused.  We  may  also  make 
the  effort  to  forget  what  disturbs  us,  to  shut 
our  eyes  to  it.  In  "  Bleak  House "  Dickens 
makes  Skimpole  run  away  from  the  child  sick 
with  smallpox  because  the  delicacy  of  his 
nature  makes  it  impossible  for  him  to  endure 
suffering ;  Dame  Durden  has  little  feeling, 
and  can  stay  with  the  child  and  see  the  suf- 
fering and  give  the  needed  care. 

Unselfish  sympathy  seeks  to  help  and  relieve 
the  sufferer.  To  forget  suffering  is  the  easier 
course.  The  more  one  accustoms  himself  to 
disregard  the  troubles  of  others,  the  easier  it 
becomes,  whereas  the  more  we  try  to  relieve 
suffering  the  more  suffering  oppresses  us.  The 
pain  of  sympathy  can  never  be  removed  by  the 
effort  to  relieve  the  suffering  which  causes  it; 
the  undertaking  is  too  great.  The  wonderful 
thing  is  that  through  love  we  thus  break 
through  all  individual  preferences,  and  instead 
of  following  the  easier  course,  choose  that 
which  involves  effort  and  sacrifice.  What  is 
the  significance  of  this  ? 


LOVE   INVOLVES    UNITY  185 

To  find  our  answer  we  must  turn  back  to 
the  first  idea  of  the  reason.  As  the  law  of 
causation  was  found  to  be,  not  the  mere  se- 
quence of  events,  but  an  inner  connection 
between  cause  and  effect,  revealing  a  unity 
which  underlies  all  experience  ;  as  in  the 
inflexible  working  of  the  law  of  contradic- 
tions we  feel  the  grasp  of  this  principle  of 
unity  so  far  as  all  thought  is  concerned  —  so 
the  principle  of  obligation,  the  principle  of  the 
moral  law,  is  found  to  rest  in  the  love  and 
sympathy  which  manifest  the  same  great  unity 
in  society.  The  sympathy  which  summons 
us  out  of  selfishness  is  not  a  mere  imitative, 
echoing  reflection ;  it  is  the  suffering  of  a 
man,  not  because  of  another,  but  in  and  for 
another.  The  whole  social  basis  of  morality 
looked  at  from  the  outside  seems  superficial ; 
but  examined  from  within,  nothing  can  be 
more  profound.  Unselfish,  helpful  sorrow 
represents  the  positive  side  of  this  principle, 
the  reproach  of  conscience  the  negative  side. 
The  man  who  takes  advantage  of  another  sets 
himself  off  apart  from  others  ;  this  contradicts 
the  principle  of  unity,  and  he  feels  himself 


186       THE    LAW    OF   LOVE    THE    ONLY   LAW 

solitary.  On  the  other  hand,  to  the  extent 
to  which  a  man's  love  embraces  others,  he  is 
one  with  them.  The  only  solitude  is  that 
which  a  man  makes  for  himself.  When  love 
and  sympathy  are  checked,  or  cease,  then 
follows  solitude  —  a  solitude  that  is  often 
haunted. 

Why  do  not  all  feel  this  relation,  just  as 
a  stone  feels  the  attraction  of  gravitation  ? 
No  one  does  fully  escape.  The  criminal  can- 
not wholly  shut  himself  off.  We  are  all  bound 
by  the  principle,  though  the  consciousness  of 
it  is  less  in  some  than  in  others.  But  man 
may  choose  to  live  his  life  more  profoundly 
or  more  superficially,  as  the  stone  cannot ; 
man  has  a  certain  freedom. 

If  the  principle  of  the  moral  law  rests  upon 
altruism,  then  all  the  various  forms  of  morality 
have  a  common  source ;  the  forms  may  be 
very  different,  and  at  the  same  time  the  heart 
remain  the  same.  There  is  no  system  of  com- 
mandments, the  only  law  is  the  law  of  love. 
The  Fiji  islander  believes  that  the  bodily  state 
in  which  one  dies  will  be  that  in  which  he 
enters  upon  the  life  after  death,  and  there- 


THE   MORAL    LAW   SUPERNATURAL         187 

fore  he  puts  his  parents  to  death  while  they 
are  in  full  health  of  body  and  mind  ;  from 
his  point  of  view  this  is  an  act  of  love.  Love 
has  to  learn  from  experience  what  acts  are 
helpful  and  what  are  injurious  to  others ; 
and  where  experience  cannot  reach,  the  result 
is  helped  out  by  theories  and  beliefs.  Public 
sentiment  comes  to  the  aid  of  the  altruistic 
virtues,  religion  assists  them,  law  more  or  less. 
Yet  they  have  also  a  certain  spontaneousness. 

The  moral  law  finds  its  basis  in  the  principle  \ 
of  unity.  It  is  thus  supernatural  because  the 
principle  of  unity  is  supernatural.  It  breaks 
in  upon  the  natural  world,  the  "noumenon," 
to  use  Kant's  phrase,  "breaking  in  upon  the 
world  of  phenomena."  Spencer,  in  a  remark- 
able passage,1  recognizes  this  supernatural 
quality  of  the  moral  law.  "  If  the  principles 
of  morality,"  he  says,  "  are  those  toward  which 
the  unknowable  is  aiming,  then  morality  has 
the  sanction  of  the  unknowable." 

As  regards  the  relation  between  the  moral 
law  and  religion,  we   have   already  seen  that 
to   a   great    extent    the    development    of    the 
1  "  Data  of  Ethics,"  p.  171. 


188  RELIGION   AND    MORALITY 

higher  ethics  has  taken  place  independently 
of  religion.  As  in  the  human  embryo  the 
various  growths  are  from  different  centres, 
yet  as  development  continues  these  growths 
unite,  so  religion  and  morality  appear  to  have 
their  rise  from  different  centres  and  to  unite 
only  at  length  in  their  highest  aspect  to  form 
one  inseparable  whole.  When  the  God  who 
is  the  object  of  worship  comes  to  be  known  as 
the  Absolute  Goodness,  then  religion  adopts 
as  its  own  the  higher  ethics  and  gives  it  its 
sanction. 

What,  then,  is  the  gain  to  morality  from 
its  relation  to  religion  ?  We  have  seen  that 
in  its  highest  aspect  the  moral  law  is  a  mani- 
festation of  the  unity  of  the  social  order.  This 
unity  first  shows  itself  without  conscious  rec- 
ognition on  the  part  of  the  individual ;  he 
feels  it  as  a  power  long  before  he  recognizes 
it  for  what  it  really  is.  Now,  as  soon  as  re- 
ligion and  morality  come  together  this  prin- 
ciple is  illuminated.  God  has  "made  of  one 
blood  all  nations  of  men."1  It  is  no  longer 
a  vague,  abstract  principle  of  unity  in  which 
1  Acts  xvii.  26. 


RELIGION   AND    MORALITY  189 

we  stand  together;  we  are  in  the  grasp  of 
God.  When  we  define  in  this  way  the  prin- 
ciple of  brotherhood,  we  are  defining,  not  only 
our  relation  to  our  fellows,  but  also  our  rela- 
tion to  God. 

In  the  second  place,  the  sense  of  the 
supernatural  aspect  of  the  moral  law  is 
deepened.  When  we  do  right,  we  feel  that 
the  power  of  Omnipotence  is  behind  us  and 
working  in  and  through  us.  Further,  we  are 
freed  to  a  large  extent  from  the  pressure  of 
little  things.  Religion  gives  to  morality  a 
broader  outlook.  The  little  child  thinks  life 
a  failure  because  it  is  denied  some  pleasure 
on  which  it  has  set  its  heart ;  the  man  knows 
that  the  days  and  the  years  will  bring  their 
opportunity.  So  religion,  the  relation  toward 
God,  leads  the  soul  out  into  infinite  fields  of 
spiritual  being,  and  the  petty  influences  by 
which  we  are  surrounded  no  longer  distract 
and  hinder  us.  In  the  general  conduct  of 
life  the  thought  of  eternal  rewards  and  pun- 
ishments has  much  less  effect  on  men  than 
is  often  supposed.  It  plays  a  large  part,  it 
is  true,  before  the  moral  law  comes  to  be 


190      REALITY    OF    DEATH-BED    REPENTANCE 

known  in  its  higher  aspects.  But  as  the 
ethical  ideal  rises,  the  importance  of  rewards 
and  punishments  diminishes ;  the  individual 
recognizes  the  impossibility  of  fulfilling  ab- 
solutely the  whole  of  the  moral  law.  Only 
the  unusual,  the  startling,  act  excites  the 
dread  of  supernatural  penalty ;  for  the  ordi- 
nary occasions  of  life,  moral  standards  adapt 
themselves  to  the  individual  and  the  commu- 
nity; the  question  is,  "How  far?"  Yet  a 
belief  in  God  and  immortality,  in  so  far  as  I 
it  makes  a  man  take  a  larger  view  of  life, 
does  have  a  great  effect  upon  moral  char- 
acter. 

We  often  speak  slightingly  of  what  is 
known  as  death-bed  repentance,  and  assume 
that  the  murderer,  for  example,  who  dies  on 
the  scaffold  expressing  repentance  for  his 
crime  is  necessarily  a  hypocrite.  Yet  there 
is  no  reason  why  such  repentance  should  not 
be  real.  The  man  is  taken  out  of  the  temp- 
tations and  all  the  usual  relations  to  which  he 
has  been  accustomed;  he  can  see  good  and 
evil  without  bias;  he  can  see  where  he  has 
done  wrong.  At  such  a  time  a  man's  life  is 


PERMANENT  INFLUENCE    OF    RELIGION     191 

like  the  compass  that  has  been  lifted  to  the 
masthead,  above  any  interference  from  sur- 
rounding influences.  His  better  instincts 
follow  the  leading  of  their  own  nature. 
Of  course,  if  the  compass  is  brought  down  to 
the  deck  again,  it  will  vary  as  before,  and  if 
the  man  who  has  been  at  the  point  of  death 
is  allowed  to  live  and  comes  back  into  the 
accustomed  relations,  it  does  not  argue  his 
repentance  untrue  that  old  attractions  and 
temptations  may  again  assert  their  hold  upon 
him.  Religion  aims  to  reach  permanently  a 
result  similar  to  that  which  in  such  crises  is 
gained  transiently;  it  seeks  to  introduce 
men  into  a  larger  life  where  immediate  in- 
fluences shall  have  less  power,  and  the 
higher  instincts  shall  be  free  to  follow  their 
own  law.  Suppose  a  civilized  man  ship- 
wrecked upon  an  island  inhabited  only  by 
savages ;  so  long  as  he  has  any  hope  of  a 
return  to  civilization,  it  is  easier  for  him  to 
maintain  the  old  habits  of  life;  but  when 
once  he  despairs  of  rescue  he  sinks  to  the 
level  of  those  about  him.  Thus  religion  makes 
possible  an  outlook  beyond  the  world  of  sense, 


192  MORALITY    WITH  RELIGION 

so  that  it  shall  not  fill  and  obstruct  the  hori- 
zon ;  religion  does  not  necessarily  dwarf  the 
ordinary  relations  of  life,  but  it  puts  the 
higher  relations  in  a  stronger  light,  so  that 
naturally  they  assert  a  greater  authority. 

On  the  whole,  religion  and  morality  gain 
each  from  the  other.  Each  may  make  the 
other  clearer  and  stronger.  Each  contributes 
its  force  to  the  other,  and  the  two  work 
together  as  a  single  force.  Some  are  awak- 
ened to  any  real  religious  sense  only  by  the 
power  of  conscience.  The  man  finds  a  super- 
natural power  present  with  him  in  the  moral 
law  which  he  has  in  his  own  heart ;  or  as  he 
breaks  the  moral  law  and  the  voice  of  con- 
science cries  to  him,  he  recognizes  the  pres- 
ence of  God  as  a  resistance  made  to  his  own 
independent  activity.  Thus  in  one  way  or 
the  other  he  realizes  that  there  is  in  religion 
something  more  than  its  formal  or  material 
aspects.  On  the  other  hand,  as  we  have  seen, 
religion  reenforces  and  illuminates  the  moral 
sense.  It  is  more  difficult  for  the  individual 
to  live  selfishly,  to  shut  himself  off  from  the 
common  life,  the  unity  of  the  world,  when 


NON-RELIGIOUS    MORALITY  193 

once  he  has  recognized  this  unity  under  the 
form  of  a  great  spiritual  presence  and  power. 

The  question  is  often  asked,  What  would 
become  of  morality  if  men  should  lose  their 
faith  in  religion  ?  So  far  as  communities  are 
concerned,  history  shows  that  morality  and 
religion  usually  rise  or  fall  together  ;  as  reli- 
gion is  denied,  the  moral  standard  falls,  there 
is  a  greater  prevalence  of  crime,  a  greater 
general  laxity.  This  does  not  mean  that  the 
decline  of  religion  is  necessarily  the  cause  of 
the  decline  of  morality  ;  both  may  be  the 
result  of  a  general  decline  in  life.  It  is  im- 
portant to  notice,  however,  that  the  same 
principle  does  not  in  general  hold  true  of 
individuals.  The  individual  partakes  of  the 
spirit  in  which  he  is  trained,  the  influence  of 
habit  is  about  him,  and  thus  we  have  examples 
of  a  high  degree  of  ethical  development  among 
men  and  women  who  have  given  up  positive 
religion. 

The  decline  of  religion  would  not  all  at  once 
draw  after  it  the  full  train  of  its  consequences. 
The  potter's  wheel  continues  to  revolve  long 
after  the  vessel  which  was  moulded  upon  it  has 


194  RELIGION  AND   ITS    CRITICS 

been  finished  and  removed,  and  established 
habits  have  a  momentum  by  which  they  still 
endure  for  a  time.  Certainly  we  could  not  be 
sure  what  the  result  would  be  so  long  as  the 
strife  between  religion  and  non-religion  was  in 
progress.  Many  scientific  men  who  reject 
positive  religion  take  pleasure,  nevertheless,  in 
writing  about  religion.  Huxley  was  appar- 
ently never  so  happy  as  when  he  was  discuss- 
ing religious  questions.  A  person  who  faces 
these  great  questions,  even  when  the  view 
which  he  takes  of  them  is  negative,  still  has 
his  life  enlarged  by  them  ;  he  is  brought  into 
touch  with  high  ideals  and  wide  outlooks.  It 
is  as  though  we  were  intent  on  building  a  high 
wall  about  an  island  to  shut  out  the  sight  of 
the  sea  ;  we  should  have  to  wait  for  a  time 
before  we  could  know  what  the  effect  was  to 
be  :  so  long  as  the  wall  was  in  process  of 
building,  those  who  were  at  work  upon  it 
would  have  the  outlook.  So  the  critics  of  re- 
ligion look  out  on  great  possibilities,  however 
strongly  they  deny  their  reality.  Imagine  a 
Huxley  with  no  thought  or  idea  of  religion, 
and  contrast  him  with  the  real  Huxley,  inter- 


POWER    OF   RELIGION   IN   MORALITY       195 

estccl  in  controverting  positive  religious  ideas, 
and  what  a  different  man  we  should  have  ! 

Whether  a  decline  of  both  religion  and  moral- 
ity at  once  is  caused  by  the  lessening  power  of 
religion,  or  whether  the  lessening  power  of 
religion  and  of  morality  results  from  the  lower- 
ing of  the  tone  of  the  general  life  of  the  com- 
munity, it  is  hard  to  say.  Although  morality 
is  not  dependent  upon  religion,  yet  to  do  away 
with  religion  might  bring  about  a  reaction 
stronger  than  the  positive  influence.  Religion 
gives  to  morality  an  immense  power. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   SUPERNATURAL   CHARACTER   OF    BEAUTY 
-THE    RELATION    BETWEEN     BEAUTY    AND 
RELIGION  —  THE       THIRD       DEFINITION       OF 
RELIGION 

WE  come  now  to  the  consideration  of  the 
third  idea  of  the  reaspn^beauty.1  We  have  to 
ask  whether  this  too  is  supernatural,  and  what 
relation,  if  any,  it  sustains  to  religion.  There 
are  a  great  many  theories  about  beauty.  The 
fact  appears  to  be  that  if  we  divide  the  ex- 
ternal world  into  certain  types  of  form,  the 
objects  which  manifest  any  one  of  these  types 
freely  and  purely  arouse  in  us  the  sense  of; 
beauty  or  of  sublimity.  If  we  begin  with  the! 
material  world,  we  find  this  true  ;  the  objects 
of  the  material  world  fill  us  with  the  sense  of 
beauty  when  they  are  perfectly  presented.  In 
the  same  way  sounds  and  colors  charm  us  when 

1 C.    C.    Everett,    "  Poetry,    Comedy,    and    Duty,"    I ; 
"  Science  of  Thought,"  pp.  153,  221. 
196 


THE  NATURE  OF  BEAUTY       197 

jyure.  There  must  be  harmony  of  sound  and 
harmony  of  color  if  we  are  to  know  color  and 
sound  as  they  really  are.  In  mere  noises 
sound  is  broken  up  by  the  accident  of  the 
instrument  or  the  environment,  and  does  not 
reach  us  in  its  ideal  form.  When,  as  in  music, 
accident  is  done  away  with,  sound  is  left  free 
to  follow  its  own  laws.  We  may  even  say 
that  noise  is  not  sound,  because  sound  in  noise 
is  not  itself.  It  is  the  same,  again,  when  we 
pass  to  animal  life.  That  living  thing  is  most 
beautiful  which  most  freely  and  purely  mani- 
fests itself.  It  is  thus  that  the  human  form  , 
when  perfectly  developed  is  so  beautiful  be- 1 
yond  other  forms  ;  man  stands  by  vital  power J 
and  we  see  manifested  in  him  the  unity  of  life,! 
its  absolute  balance.  Finally,  if  we  take  a 
step  higher,  into  the  spiritual  world,  we  find 
there,  too,  beauty  of  spirit  wherever  the 
spiritual  life  is  perfectly  exhibited. 

There  is  a  seeming  contradiction  to  this  in 
the  beauty  of  the  imperfect.  A  ruin  may  be 
more  beautiful  than  was  the  complete  build- 
ing. But  this  is  because  the  ruin  has  been 
taken  back  into  the  heart  of  nature.  Whereas 


198  BEAUTY   OF  IMPERFECTION 

the  complete  building,  however  much  we  may 
have  enjoyed  the  beauty  which  belonged  to  it, 
tetood  out  apart  by  itself,  in  the  ruin  nature 
/has  made  itself  again  supreme.  In  the  same 
way  the  Chinese  junk  appeals  more  strongly 
to  the  sense  of  beauty  than  the  modern 
steamer,  because  the  junk  is  subordinate  to 
the  sea,  while  the  steamer  dominates  it.  The 
beauty  of  the  perfection  of  the  type  does  not 
^  exclude  a  beauty  of  imperfection  wherever 
I  that  imperfection  appears  in  relation  to  other 
elements.  For  the  world  itself  is  beautiful, 
i  Wherever  we  find  the  elements  of  nature  and 
of  life  presented  in  a  typical  form,  the  sense 
of  beauty  is  aroused.  It  is  not  an  external 
sense  ;  it  is  bound  up  with  our  whole  relation 
with  the  world.  There  is  in  the  world  a  unity 
by  which  all  the  elements  are  brought  into 
relation  with  one  another,  and  between  the 
world  and  us  there  is  something  in  common 
by  which  the  world,  as  it  were,  speaks  to  us. 
The  sense  of  beauty  is  not  a  feeling  attendant 
upon  the  intellectual  recognition  of  the  type 
realized ;  it  is  the  sense  of  companionship 
with  the  outer  world,  the  sympathetic  enjoy- 


BEAUTY  MANIFESTS    UNITY  199 

ment  of  its  perfection.  The  interpreters  of 
beauty  are  the  poets.  No  treatise  on  beauty 
can  surpass  Emerson's  Ode.1  Take  these  lines 
from  the  second  strophe  : 

"  Is  it  that  my  opulent  soul 
Was  mingled  from  the  generous  whole ; 
Sea-valleys  and  the  deep  of  skies 
Furnished  several  supplies ; 
And  the  sands  whereof  I'm  made 
Draw  me  to  them,  self-betrayed?  " 

Here  the  supernatural  character  of  beauty 
is  given  recognition,  the  unity  in  nature  and 
between  nature  and  the  human  soul. 

Just  as  morality  is  the  power  of  unity  bind- 
ing individual  souls  into  a  whole  in  the  social  f 
order,  so  beauty  is  the  manifestation  of  the  ! 
principle  by  which  our  lives  and  the  sur- 
rounding world  are  taken  up  into  a  common 
relationship.  The  beauty  of  a  single  flower 
is  an  indication  of  the  beauty  of  the  whole. 
If  the  sense  of  beauty  is  the  recognition  of 
companionship  between  ourselves  and  the  ex- 
ternal world,  then  every  beautiful  object  im- 
plies it.  There  is  the  scientific  approach  to 

1  R.  W.  Emerson,  "  Ode  to  Beauty." 


200  UNITY,    GOODNESS,   BEAUTY 

the  thought  of  unity,  such  as  Tennyson  gives 
us  in  the  "  Flower  in  the  Crannied  Wall "  ; 
if  we  could  perfectly  understand  the  flower, 
we  should  understand  and  know  all  things. 
And  there  is  the  approach  from  the  aesthetic 
side,  which  we  have  in  Emerson's  "  Ode  to 
Beauty,"  and  by  which,  in  every  beautiful 
thing, 

"  The  frailest  leaf,  the  mossy  bark, 
The  acorn's  cup,  the  raindrop's  arc, 
The  swinging  spider's  silver  line, 
The  ruby  of  the  drop  of  wine," 

is  found  the  implication  of  the  whole. 

The  three  ideas  of  the  reason  are  simply 
different  manifestations  of  one  and  the  same 
principle.  The  first  affirms  that  which  is,  the 
second  that  which  ought  to  be,  while  in  the 
third  we  find  that  which  is  as  it  ought  to  be, 
•  the  fulfilled  perfection.  Recognition  of  the 
moral  law  appeals  to  the  conscious  spirit.  The 
spirit  which  is  wholly  beautiful  is  as  it  ought 
to  be  spontaneously  without  consciousness  of 
the  ought ;  it  performs  this  or  that  act  because 
it  is  the  most  natural  and  desirable  thing  in 
the  world.  The  beautiful  is  not  beautiful 


BEAUTY   AND    RELIGION  201 

unless  it  is  free.  It  must  be  "  its  own  excuse 
for  being."  So  far  as  we  think  of  an  object 
as  serviceable,  to  that  extent  it  ceases  to  be 
beautiful.  The  enjoyment  of  beauty  is  pure 
contemplation,  and  the  personal  element  must 
not  enter.1 

It  is  often  said  that  beauty  is  the  mingling 
of  variety  and  unity.  This  is  in  a  sense 
true  ;  but  mere  variety  and  mere  unity  is  not 
enough  ;  there  must  be  the  variety  and  unity 
of  something.  Beauty  as  a  whole  is  thus  the 
manifestation  in  the  most  concrete  and  varied 
forms  of  the  unity  of  the  universe. 

What  is  the  relation  of  beauty  to  religion? 
The  two  have  been  associated  to  a  wide  extent. 
In  the  primitive  religions  beauty  may  have  little 
place ;  the  objects  in  which  worship  centres 
are  those  which  attract  by  their  oddity,  their 
peculiar  size  or  conformation,  rather  than  by 
their  beauty.  But  as  soon  as  we  leave  these 
earliest  forms  behind,  beauty  begins  to  mani-i 
fest  itself  in  the  object  of  worship.  This  I 
emphasis  upon  beauty  strengthens  until,  in 
Greece,  religion  becomes  the  worship  of  beauty. 
1  C.  C.  Everett,  "Science  of  Thought,"  pp.  158,  169. 


202          BEAUTY   MAY   BE   ANTI-RELIGIOUS 

Besides  being  the  object  of  worship,  beauty 
enters  as  a  means  of  worship;  architecture 
and  music  and  sculpture  and  painting,  all 
have  had  their  part. 

Why  is  it  that  beauty  has  such  prominence 
in  religion?  Because  religion  is  the  feeling 
toward  the  supernatural,  and  beauty  is  a  mani- 
festation of  the  supernatural  in  the  world.  As 
the  moral  law  and  religion,  developing  from 
different  centres,  at  length  come  together,  so 
'also  do  beauty  and  religion,  with  this  difference 
only,  that  beauty  was  earlier  associated  with 

i  religion  than  was  the  moral  law.  Negatively 
considered,  beauty  lifts  us  out  of  material  asso- 
ciations ;  positively,  it  is  one  manifestation 
more  of  the  reality  of  life. 

Yet  beauty  may  stand  in  opposition  to  reli- 
gion. The  religion  of  Greece  did  not  lead  the 
people  to  the  highest  things  of  life.  Often  the 
love  of  beauty  invites  to  selfishness  and  sensu- 

/  ality.  This  happens  first  of  all  when  the  sense 
of  beauty  does  not  take  us  out  of  ourselves. 

4  It  is  a  fundamental  element  in  the  enjoyment 
of  beauty  that  it  should  consist  in  contempla- 
tion. Anything  which  interferes  with  contem- 


BEAUTY   MUST   SUGGEST    UNITY  203 

plation  in  so  far  hinders  the  recognition  of  the  J 
object  as  beautiful.  Thus,  when  a  man  looks  at 
a  beautiful  picture  with  the  desire  to  possess  it, 
the  desire  of  possession  is  foreign  to  the  sense 
of  beauty,  and  therefore  the  enjoyment  of  the 
beauty  in  the  picture  is  impaired.  Again, 
beauty  may  stand  opposed  to  religion  when  the 
object  does  not  take  the  beholder  beyond  itself.  • 
Every  beautiful  object  is  a  single  instance  of 
the  absolute  beauty  of  which  it  is  a  part,  and 
the  true  enjoyment  of  beauty  requires  that  we 
should  have  some  sense  of  this  connection  in 
virtue  of  which  the  object  does  not  stand  alone. 

"  A  primrose  by  the  river's  brim 
A  yellow  primrose  was  to  him, 
And  it  was  nothing  more."  l 

Why  was  it  not  something  more  ?  Because  to 
him  the  primrose,  beautiful  in  itself,  suggested 
nothing  beyond  itself.  The  beauty  of  the 
flower  must  suggest  the  beauty  of  nature  itself. 

"  To  me  the  meanest  flower  that  blows  can  give 
Thoughts  that  do  often  lie  too  deep  for  tears."  2 

1  William  Wordsworth,  "  Peter  Bell,"  stanza  12. 
2 Wordsworth,  "Intimations  of  Immortality,"  stanza  11. 
See  also  R.  W.  Emerson,  "Poems:  "  "Each  and  All." 


204  BEAUTY  MUST   SUGGEST    UNITY 

The  beautiful  object  of  any  sort  must  open 
on  one  side  or  another  into  the  infinite  uni- 
verse. Otherwise  the  object  alone  by  itself  may 
be  pretty,  but  it  must  lack  the  beauty  which 
comes  only  as  there  is  some  opening  into  the 
larger  relation.  In  art  what  is  called  "  complete 
enclosure "  has  always  an  unpleasant  effect. 
The  statue  remains  open  on  the  side  of  color, 
the  painting  on  the  side  of  form.  When  we  try 
to  combine  both,  the  form  and  the  color,  as  in 
waxwork,  the  result  disappoints  us.  The  wax 
figure  attempts  to  imitate  life,  and  we  know 
that  it  is  not  life. 

The  phrase,  "looks  through  nature  up  to 
/  nature's  God,"  has  often  been  interpreted  to 
mean  that  the  contrivances  of  nature  suggest 
a  God  as  their  designer.  The  mt>re  profound 
sense  is  that  which  I  have  indicated.  It  is 
not  that  in  our  appreciation  of  the  beauty  and 
wonder  of  nature  we  necessarily  think  of  the 
wisdom  and  power  of  the  Creator,  but  simply 
that  we  have  the  sense  of  the  divine  presence. 

In  the  third  place  —  and  here  we  get  at  the 
!  heart  of  the  matter  —  beauty  may  oppose  re- 
;  ligion  whenever  it  is  felt  too  soon  or  in  excess. 


BEAUTY  FELT  IN  EXCESS  205 

The  enjoyment  of  beauty  is  contemplation, 
but  the  religious  life  calls  for  action.  A  life 
of  contemplation  may  by  its  very  attraction 
and  delight  dull  the  active  ethical  tendencies, 
and  so  lead  to  inaction  and  the  neglect  of 
duty.  But  is  not  this  fatal  to  any  vital  re- 
lation of  beauty  with  religion  ?  No.  For 
worship,  too,  and  even  religious  contemplation, 
may  stand  similarly  in  the  way  of  real  reli- 
gion. Jesus  recognizes  this  :  "  Therefore  if 
thou  bring  thy  gift  to  the  altar,  and  there 
rememberest  that  thy  brother  hath  aught 
against  thee,  .  .  .  first  be  reconciled  to  thy 
brother,  and  then  come  and  offer  thy  gift."1 
The  temple  service,  when  it  takes  the  place 
of  the  practical  duties  of  life,  is  out  of  place 
and  in  the  way  of  the  highest  spiritual  devo- 
tion and  surrender.  But  as  the  mistaken  use 
of  worship  does  not  imply  that  worship  is  in 
itself  a  hindrance  to  religion,  so  it  is  not  to 
be  assumed,  because  the  sense  of  beauty  is 
sometimes  in  conflict  with  religion,  that  there 
is  therefore  no  real  relation  between  beauty 
and  religion.  We  cannot  argue  here  from  one 
i  Matt.  v.  23,  24. 


206  BEAUTY   AS   INSPIRATION 

example  to  another.  In  Byron  we  find  the 
love  of  beauty  divorced  from  religion  and 
ethics.  With  Wordsworth  as  great  an  appre- 
ciation of  beauty  was  united  with  a  profound 
religious  sense. 

No,  religion  without  beauty  is  as  imperfect 

(as  religion  without  the  moral  law.  Not  that 
the  aesthetic  element  occupies  a  position  of 
equal  importance  with  the  ethical  element. 
In  the  perfect  cathedral  we  say  that  founda- 
tion and  spire  are  both  necessary,  but  they 
I  are  necessary  in  different  senses.  So  in  reli- 
(gion  the  ethical  element  is  fundamental ;  the 
aesthetic  element  helps  to  complete  it.  In 

I  what  way  ?  Religion  without  the  moral  sense 
would  be  misleading,  but  religion  has  not 
this  dependence  upon  the  aesthetic  sense. 
What,  then,  is  the  opportunity  of  beauty? 

i  To  serve  as  inspiration.  It  must  yield  always 
to  the  moral  law.  **The  monk  in  his  cell,  rapt 
in  a  vision  of  the  Virgin,  is  called  away  to 
give  food  to  a  beggar  at  the  door.  He  hesi- 
tates, but  goes.  He  returns  to  find  the  vision 

I  still  before  him,  but,  "Hadst  thou  not  gone," 
the  Virgin  says,  "I  could  not  have  stayed." 


BEAUTY  AS    REFRESHMENT  207 

The  moral  law  asserts  its  prior  claim.  But 
just  as  play  is  needed  for  rest  and  recreation, 
so  beauty  enters  to  refresh  us.  It  fails  if  \ 
one  tries  to  enjoy  it  from  any  sense  of  duty. 
The  exercise  which  a  man  takes  only  for  the 
sake  of  his  health  fails  to  give  full  refresh- 
ment ;  if  he  is  to  have  the  greatest  benefit 
from  it,  he  must  play.  The  man  who  seeks 
happiness  is  not  the  one  who  finds  it.  So  it  ] 
is  in  the  enjoyment  of  beauty.  A  man  must 
hear  music  because  he  wants  to,  not  because 
he  thinks  he  ought. 

The  mediaeval  scholastics  held  that  after  the 
performance   of    all   duties   here   the   saint   in 
glory  should  find  his  rest  and  joy  in  the  con- 
templation of  the  divine  beauty.     Our  enjoy- 
ment of  beauty  in  the  world,  our   delight  in  I 
each   most   perfect   manifestation   of   the   uni- 
versal life,  this  is  the  beginning  of  that  "vision'! 
beatific." 

The    first   definition   of    religion    which    we 
reached  was  that  religion  is  essentially  feeling.1 
To  this  we  added  in  a  second  definition  that 
1  Page  51. 


208  THIRD    DEFINITION    OF    RELIGION 

it  is  feeling  toward  the  supernatural.1  Both 
of  these  definitions  were  inclusive,  covering 
all  forms  of  religion.  We  have  arrived  now 
at  a  definition  which  is  no  longer  like  the 
others,  absolutely  inclusive,  but  typical.  RE- 
LIGION IS  A  FEELING  TOWARD  A  SUPER- 
NATURAL PRESENCE  MANIFESTING  ITSELF 
IN  TRUTH,  GOODNESS,  AND  BEAUTY.  There 

remains  for  us  to  substitute  for  the  word 
"  supernatural "  the  word  "  spiritual,"  but  this 
step  would  take  us  beyond  the  limits  of  our 
present  examination.2 

There  are  forms  of  religion  which  apparently 
have  little  to  do  with  truth  and  goodness  and 
beauty.  Take,  however,  the  lowest  form  of 
religion.  Upon  what  does  it  rest?  Upon 
the  assumption  that  in  the  world  there  is  some- 
thing akin  to  the  human  spirit ;  the  unity  of 
spiritual  power  is  the  first  type  of  unity  which 
men  recognize.3  In  the  first  stage,  it  is  true, 


i 

2  The  definition  of  religion  as  thus  finally  modified  was 
considered  by  Dr.  Everett  in  the  longer  course  of  lectures, 
on  **  Theism  and  the  Special  Content  of  Christian  Faith," 
to  which  this  series  served  as  an  introduction. 

8  Page  165. 


RELIGION   RESTS    UPON    UNITY  209 

the  idea  is  only  poorly  developed ;  there  is 
no  conscious  conception  of  it,  only  the  implicit 
assumption  that  the  external  world  is  controlled 
by  the  same  force  which  man  finds  within  him- 
self, the  assumption  that  there  is  a  unity  of 
the  world  akin  to  the  unity  within  himself. 
This  forms  the  basis  of  religious  belief.  It 
is  that  which  alone  entitles  these  lower  forms 
of  religion  to  be  called  religion.  In  the  second 
stage  of  development  the  type  of  unity  is  taken 
from  the  material  world,  and  the  spiritual 
seems  accidental.  In  the  highest  stages  the 
spiritual  unity  becomes  again  the  basis.  The 
other  principles,  goodness  and  beauty,  grow 
up  slowly,  developing  more  or  less  indepen- 
dently of  religion  ;  then,  as  religion  recognizes 
them,  they  are  incorporated  in  it.  There  is 
nothing,  therefore,  which  can  properly  be  called 
religion  which  does  not  rest  upon  unity. 

We  have  here  to  do  only  with  the  psy- 
chological elements  of  religious  faith.  Within 
these  limits  we  recognize  two  distinct  aspects 
of  religion.  Under  the  first  aspect  we  have 
the  form  of  religion,  that  which  we  have  called 
the  supernatural.  Under  the  second  aspect 


210  FORM   AND    CONTENT 

we  have  the  content  of  religion,  the  three  ideas 
of  the  reason  —  truth  and  goodness  and  beauty. 
The  form  and  the  content  may  be  separated. 
The  form  is  found  with  very  little  content  in 
savage  religions,  and  throughout  the  various 
developments  of  religion  the  formal  element 
can  be  recognized.  It  appears  even  in  the 
highest  stage  ;  even  here,  as  we  have  already 
seen,  religion  may  be  for  the  individual  wor- 
shipper self-related,  and  the  supreme  being 
conceived  only  as  a  power  to  which  appeal 
is  made,  a  power  which  serves  the  worshipper, 
a  power  which  may  even  possess  qualities  op- 
posed to  truth  and  goodness  and  beauty.  On 
the  other  hand,  we  may  find  devotion  to  the 
content  without  recognition  of  the  form.  A 
man  may  follow  the  leading  of  truth  and  good- 
ness and  beauty  without  recognition  of  the 
supernatural,  of  God,  just  as  he  may  recog- 
nize God,  and  give  to  truth  and  goodness 
and  beauty  no  recognition. 

Which  of  these  two  kinds  of  men  can  be 
said  to  worship  God  in  the  truer  sense?  If 
we  must  choose,  we  should  say  that  the  man 
who  recognizes  the  content  worships  God  in 


TRUE    WORSHIP  211 

the  truer  sense.  It  is  as  though  we  should 
take  some  one  to  a  gallery  and  show  him  there 
a  poor  picture  said  to  have  been  painted  by 
Raphael,  and  he  should  see  also  another  paint- 
ing, very  beautiful,  not  painted  by  Raphael ; 
"  I  do  not  care  for  Raphael,"  he  says,  "  the 
second  picture  is  far  more  beautiful."  Another 
man  may  admire  the  poorer  painting.  Which 
would  really  honor  Raphael  ?  We  must  believe 
that  Raphael  himself  would  have  thought  little 
of  the  man  who  praised  his  name  but  dis- 
honored his  work.  So  in  religion,  the  man 
who  worships  truth  and  goodness  and  beauty 
worships  what  God  is.  The  other  recognizes 
the  name  of  God,  but  neglects  that  which 
gives  meaning  to  the  name.  Of  course  the 
highest  form  of  religion  is  that  in  which  the 
two  aspects  are  united.  Such  union  gives 
power  to  all  the  elements.  Unity  becomes 
clear,  goodness  receives  impulse,  beauty  is 
manifested  in  a  higher  form. 

The  whole  history  of  religion  is  found  in 
the  attempt  to  fill  the  form  with  the  content. 
How  does  the  development  take  place  ?  There 
is  a  twofold  movement.  It  is  often  said  that 


212  DEVELOPMENT   OF   RELIGION 

men  construct  their  divinities  according  to  the 
ideal  of  their  own  lives,  so  that  as  man  develops 
his  gods  develop  with  him.  Man  transfers  his 
own  goodness  to  the  divinity,  and  then  the 
divinity  in  turn  reacts  upon  him,  and  the  good- 
ness of  the  divinity  stimulates  the  goodness  of 
the  man.  We  can  even  see  the  political  ideas 
of  men  thus  reflected  in  their  divinities. 

This  is  partly  true.  There  are,  however, 
other  elements  which  interfere  with  the  work- 
ing of  this  principle.  In  the  first  place, 
in  the  earliest  forms  of  religion,  the  concep- 
tion of  the  gods  grew  out  of  the  phenomena 
of  nature,  and  was  affected  by  the  working  of 
those  phenomena.  It  is  said  that  we  judge 
others  by  ourselves,  and  this  is  true.  Yet  the 
mildest  man  knows  what  anger  is,  and  when 
a  man's  life  is  interfered  with  he  does  not 
need  to  be  cruel  himself  in  order  to  feel  that 
the  gods  are  cruel  toward  him.  He  forms 
his  conception  of  the  divine  power  from  the 
influence  which  it  has  upon  his  life. 

Again,  very  few  develop  their  religion  for 
themselves.  They  take  that  which  comes  to 
them.  They  may  inherit  their  religion  from 


TWO   KINDS    OF   RELIGION  213 

the  past,  or  they  may  receive  it  from  some  one 
who  has  religious  power  and  insight,  and  im- 
presses his  power  upon  others.  In  either  case 
we  find  as  a  result  religious  conceptions  which 
are  misfits,  because  made  for  somebody  else. 
There  have  always  been,  on  the  one  hand,  men 
who  were  in  advance  of  the  religion  which 
they  professed,  so  far  as  their  own  lives  were 
concerned;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  similarly, 
those  whose  lives  were  as  far  below  the  re- 
ligious standard  of  their  time.  At  the  present 
day,  we  recognize  Christianity  as  the  highest 
type  of  religion,  but  in  the  religion  which  we 
actually  live  how  far  we  fall  short  of  the  ideal 
in  which  we  believe  ! 

At  any  given  period  there  may  be  two  kinds 
of  religion  present,  entirely  unreconciled.  In 
the  Greek  religion  recognition  of  the  divini- 
ties of  the  middle  heaven  mingled  with  lofty 
visions  of  something  beyond  and  over  them. 
In  Christianity  the  religious  man  may  recog- 
nize a  God  who  is  perfect  love  and  justice  at 
the  same  time  that  his  theology  represents  a 
God  whose  justice  and  love  are  partial.  When 
the  religion  which  men  inherit  comes  into  con- 


214  RELIGION  DEVELOPS    WITH  MAN 

flict  with  some  higher  perception  of  their  own, 
some  are  torn  by  perplexity;  others  are  not 
conscious  of  the  conflict ;  others  yet  trust  in 
a  final  reconciliation.  We  are  all  to  some 
extent  in  this  last  position.  How,  we  ask, 
can  we  reconcile  the  evil  of  the  world  with 
the  goodness  and  justice  and  love  of  God? 

It  is  impossible,  then,  to  apply  rigidly  to 
actual  experience  the  theory  that  men  create 
their  gods  according  to  their  own  nature. 
Religion  is  conservative.  Men  cling  to  that 
which  comes  to  them  hallowed  by  the  past. 
They  fear  lest  they  may  not  think  and  act  as 
they  should  toward  the  mysterious  presence 
which  they  worship.  Yet,  in  spite  of  contra- 
dictions, as  we  look  at  the  development  of 
religion  as  a  whole,  we  find  that  religion  has 
advanced  as  man  himself  has  developed. 

The  ideal  religion,  the  one  perfect  religion, 
would  be  that  in  which  the  presence  of  the 
Absolute  Spirit  should  be  fully  recognized,  and 
the  ideas  of  the  reason  —  truth,  goodness,  and 
beauty. —  acknowledged  as  the  content  of  this 
Absolute  Spirit.  The  various  religions  of 
the  world  suggest  and  approach  the  ideal 


THE   IDEAL    RELIGION  215 

religion,  each  to  a  greater  or  less  degree.  The 
ideal  religion  is  like  the  pure  air  of  the  upper 
heaven  as  compared  with  the  atmosphere  of 
the  earth.  The  lower  atmosphere  is  every- 
where different ;  it  is  vitiated  by  mists  and 
dust  and  smoke  and  all  the  various  earthly 
elements  ;  yet  we  breathe  it,  and  find  in  it, 
with  all  its  impurity,  life  and  strength  and 
refreshment.  The  purer  air  is  better,  and  so 
is  the  ideal  religion.  Yet  in  most  forms  of 
religion  enough  of  the  ideal  is  found  to  give 
men  spiritual  thought  and  some  degree  of 
spiritual  life. 


The  World  and  the  Individual 

GIFFORD   LECTURES   DELIVERED  BEFORE  THE 
UNIVERSITY   OF  ABERDEEN 

By  JOSIAH  ROYCE,  Ph.D.,  LL.D.  (Aberdeen) 

Professor  of  the  History  of  Philosophy 
in  Harvard  University 


FIRST  SERIES: 

The  Four  Historical  Conceptions  of  Being 

Crown  8vo.    Cloth.    $3.00,  net.    Postage,  15  Cents 
SECOND  SERIES: 

Nature,  Man,  and  the  Moral  Order 

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"  Too  much  cannot  be  said  in  praise  of  Professor  Royce's  style.  He  does 
not  try  to  manufacture  new  technical  terms  or  mumble  over  Germanesque 
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uses.  There  is,  moreover,  a  fine  and  noble  charm  in  his  entire  manner. 
It  is  an  important  contribution  which  he  has  made  to  clear  thinking  and 
the  most  wholesome  religious  sentiment."  —  Chicago  Rvening  Post, 

"  Professor  Royce's  work,  now  completed,  is  unquestionably  one  of  the 
most  important  contributions  to  the  leading  philosophical  discussions  now 
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—  PROFESSOR  G.  W.  HOWISON,  University  of  California. 

"  These  two  volumes  constitute  a  contribution  to  Philosophy  of  unique 
character  and  rare  attractiveness  for  minds  interested  in  these  problems." 
—  JOHN  E.  RUSSELL,  Williams  College,  Williamstown,  Mass. 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

66  FIFTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK 


Naturalism  and  Agnosticism 

THE  GIFFORD  LECTURES  DELIVERED   BEFORE 

THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  ABERDEEN   IN 

THE  YEARS   1896-1898 

BY 

JAMES  WARD,  Sc.D.,  Hon.  LL.D.  (Edin.) 

Professor  of  Mental  Philosophy  and  Logic  in 
the  University  of  Cambridge 


Vols.    8vo.    Cloth.    $4.00,  net 


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